Loud music
Hands up in the air
Carefree moves
Letting all your sorrows out

Cig in hand
Lighter by side
Puff hard
Letting out the O's together with your sorrows

I kissed you roughly
and you take off my clothes
as I took off yours
our sweaty bodies
rocked each other
and melted into one
and I felt confident, invincible
until you asked me
“who are you?”

and never have I felt
more vulnerable

You tricked me into loving you,
But really I just loved the way you made me feel.
You tempted me from across the room,
Winking and bubbling in your multicolored smiles,
Every person that dared delve into your playful perversions-
Stammered away in a radiant buzz.

I clung to an innocent corner,
I hid from your wicked stare,
But your tantalizing teasing,
Was more than I could bare.

I sipped your sinful cider, love,and lost all my control,
Your venom pulsing through my veins-
Face glowed,hips shook,
And my hair ran down my back and urged my inhibitions to run away with it.

In an intoxication fixation-I opened my mouth and kissed the world,
It tingled.

We floated on the music and surrendered to the beat
The crowd became a single blur, but I knew I had you,baby,
I nestled you tight against my lips-
Your powerful sting still irresistible.

How quickly you betrayed me,
You turned my bliss to tears,
You drug me to the bathroom,
Shame faced me in the mirror,
You left me quite abruptly,
Guilt spilled across the floor,
It dribbled down my swollen face-
You won the Friday War.

You tricked me into loving you-
And now I hate you too.

Thank God it's friday
Finally I'm going home
Place where I belong

Tick tock goes the clock
Sometimes fast sometimes slow
Especially Fridays ergo

With great anticipation
The game begins
When it hits five everyone wins

Until then our minds tend to wander
In that moment of reckoning
The weekend beckoning

Of the things to explore
When we head out that door
Having just finished our last chore

Will it be fun to enjoy
Or entertainment to employ
Either way jumping with joy

There’s that sense of freedom
Coming to our life
Leaving behind work strife

A big smile or a grin
Coming my way
No more din for this day

A few beers to quench my thirst
Sleeping in is the option first
Time with my honey never a curse

Leaping children in mine arms
The substitute for alarms
Bringing their delights and charms

Andreas Simic©

We forgot to make love last night,
yet again like many other nights
we remained distant islands separated by
Bermuda's of bed sheet and air.
The body wasn't very happy
Those thousands of red cells inside you
divided and redivided in anger
Ached and oozed and broke free
from your restless

When I woke up this morning,
I found you lying in a pool of blood.
You decided to go to work
After all it was a Friday and
the long weekend was a week away.

You take too many iron supplements
I fear, one day your body will be so full of folic acid
that it will cry.

We have the Smokies lined up for October
and the Cayman Islands in Christmas
Thinking of planned vacations makes me go to work
every day
Even though I ****
so bad
that I'd rather open a book store
and read all day
and sell a book or two.

My life is still all about you
After all these years
I still couldn't kiss that woman who
asked me on a coffee date at 10 pm by the lake.
or the one who found me cute on our album by the dressing table
You would say "Go ahead , we are not married yet".
I would laugh when I am alone,
thinking of the all the things you say
these days.

You say all the good things in life needs planning
marriage, kids,
buying house on mortgage
convertible sport coupes
vacations in South Pacific.
I find it ironic that I met you on a book store
when I cancelled a TGIF party and had this sudden urge
to buy Alice Munro's short stories.

We were sweet, back then.
Now you lie,
about being anemic on your weekly routine checkup
hide,
your biopsy report soon afterwards;
lie again,
on the reason of your sudden cancellation of the planned vacations for the year end
saying it's work.

Then you disappear, terrify me
Only to come back strands of hair gone from your head
still say nothing,
yet finally disappear saying nothing before I could buy us
the last vacation together.
I regret how much we could have done
together
if we made love more often
my body healing yours
resting, soothing,
purging all the enemies.

On the day when we supposed to be married
I visit the Caymans
laughing alone in a crowded beach
thinking about all the things you used to say these days
having Alice Munro's short stories for company.

You died on a Monday.

Nobody likes Mondays.
But this day was the first of the longest week there has ever been
or will ever be.
Days dragging their feet like my heart across the pavement.
Please save your questions, comments, and complaints,
I'm trying to wrap my head around dead dreams and saints
Wondering
how the faint cries echoing through my insides
sound
to strangers
and soulmates.

You died on a Tuesday.

Such an unassuming day for departing
Nothing happens on a Tuesday.
Until her phone rang,
We were parked outside of our favorite restaurant
I heard the world flatline to the sound of traffic
We stayed in the car.
Now parked on the roof of patient parking,
Though I had never felt less patient  
wondering
How the ******* sun can shine when you can't even breathe.
I watched my mother cry until she wouldn't in front of you.
we COULDN'T in front of you.
I promised.
But we did.

You died on a Wednesday.

A day like a life, only halfway through and it's forgotten itself.  
Like I had forgotten the heaviest my heart has ever felt
was the night I looked into my sisters eyes
and spoke like doctors,
Wore the words "there's nothing left to do" like they had ever even come close to answering the question
WHY?
Which was the only one she could get out
WHY?
They said he could have up to a year
WHY?
Or as little as a week.

You died on a Thursday.

The day so wrapped up in the promise of tomorrow,
we can only ever think about yesterday.
Throwback to any single moment before this day.
Throwback to 5 days before
watching the irony of a birthday cake in hospice
While I wondered
how many wishes it would take to keep you.
Throwback to the moment that we were alone
when you grabbed me by the collar,
So tight and so close
I could smell heaven on your breath,
As you squeezed a plea into a whisper
Get
Me
Out
Of Here.
I was silent.
But I swear to god I was screaming at the top of my heart.
And I am sorry every single day
that I had no way
to wheel, walk, or wish you out.

You died on a Friday.

I had never been further from TGIF-ing
I was busy wondering why
and begging for your breath back.
You hadn't said a word in days,
your eyelids hung heavy like sheets off an empty bed,
but when mom would whisper our names into your ear
I watched every ounce of strength you had
stand shoulder to shoulder
forcing your eyes open in bursts
like the fourth of july finale
we could hear from your bedroom.
You were a god in each goodbye,
While the blue drained from each your eyes
for us to paint our days with.

You died on a Saturday.

I thought the weekend had a deathwish
showing up like it belonged in our bereavement,
like this week would ever end,
like it hadn't heard the news.
Every night was a silent struggle
we couldn't stay,
but wouldn't go.
The night before we had collapsed into a pile on hard-backed chairs
At the mercy of the nurses who didn't have the heart to make us go,
or just enough
to let us stay.
I didn't sleep a wink that night,
I was busy listening to the human hum of our family set to the slowing beep of your vitals
and wondering,
if the grass you'll lie under will know where it came from.
But this night,
this night there was a quiet compliance
an air of understanding in our war-torn bodies

besides,
nothing happens after midnight.
Until my phone rang.

You died on a Sunday.

You were holier than any day of the year.
I don't know if you let go
or if dying always feels like drowning.
Drowning.
Like I was in every drop of water your skin couldn't hold in anymore.
Like my mother was in disbelief.
Like my grandmother was in desperation.
Like my sister was in sadness.
Our family
drowning
And not one of us moving.


You died every day that week,
and you've died every day since.
You died on her wedding day
and at my graduation
You die on your birthday
and on every anniversary
and every single day that we have to deal
with an absence so great that it deafens.
And all I can do is wonder,
what the time difference is in heaven,
and how many sleeps it will be before I see you again.
I wonder if the angels recognized you.
And how you hid your wings
so well
for so long.

But mostly I wonder,
if you wonder too.

The forest green of the trees
contrasts so greatly
against the soft pastels in the sky;
Did someone paint this neighborhood?

The odors of garlic & parsley
wafting from across the
charcoal street.
Hums of today's news,
all the latest gossip,
ooh'ing and ah'ing;
endless snippets of candlelight chatter.

Occasional dollops of light
peering up from sedans passing by.
Sounds of zooms
blocked out by the steady pulsating
of white earbuds.

Dogs yipping, sometimes a real bark.
Neighbors come and go,
reciprocating cordial hello's.

Street lights slowly coming alive,
for at 8:37, the sun has begun
its transition to slumber.

They always say,
TGIF, thank god it's Friday.
As day slips to nigh',
the crackles and pops of vinyl come alive
behind a slightly rusted window pane.

Tonight's secrets not yet revealed,
a couple strolls by
holding hands,
sipping coffees, decaffeinated.

A man drunk with regret
and a 40 in his belly,
he breathes a clumsy, "Hey."
Malted liquor questions,
their smell & sound, unmistakable gurgling.

Street lights now fully illuminated,
glances exchanged from
passer-byers.

He opens the car door for her,
and into the dusk they drive.
Vehicles come by in even
greater numbers,
and still searches the young man
for $9, a toothbrush, and a shower,
even cold.

Just another night of
just another day,
in just another city,
in just another neighborhood
on just another street.

Silence, loud, ominous silence,
filtering the senses,
the stories,
the magic;
Isn't ordinary   extraordinary?

So
tell me
who do you thank when it's Friday
when you don't believe in God.

i believe in
as I breathe in
that here is
and there was,
will always be
something out there
someone up there
far greater

so
answer now or tell me later
who do you thank when it's Friday.

***, dat lingwistik ****
is so **** bro.
ppl dun wanna no nefing nemore, well tgif.
i just wanna *** some bishes
nd 4get abt lyf.
I ceebs bein gud wif werdz.
i jst wnt sum roofies 2 hlp me relx.
my comp is lagging 2much.
2 many **** on ytube 2dae.
imma go on COD and shoot sum *****.
jst add me on SC nd u can send me nudes.
i mite c u at da clubs 2nite.
rofl.
YOLO.

inb4 dis is uncomahensabul

dis is 2deep4u.

You say LOL
After I sent TGIF.
But really?
Should I laugh?
This week has been awful.
I feel the weight of the world.
Stuck in my own head.
I’m soaking wet from being drenched in my thoughts.
I want to go home.
SOL.
Not to the home that I hate.
To my dad’s house
Where I can forget for a moment,
That life’s not all that GR8.

My building pans for gold
In these hard times,
And for its efforts
Has desilted some glinty nuggets,
Employed twenty-somethings!
Roll in your grave Che Guevara,
Here no one is packing bullets to the hills.
This band of twenty-somethings
Multi task marble halls thumbs all a twitter,
"tgif...come over, wine, pizza, stay the night?"

Mary and Joseph if you're still looking for your son,
He's sleeping in the park
Along with his disciples.
Their last supper was a dumpster dive
Of congealed chinese, smelling of fish sauce.

like4like when I admitted my feelings quickly
for her to give in slowly
#tbt to when love felt like a possibility
#yolo? Everyday with her was a lifetime of happiness
#selfie for the times I wanted to see if the warmth inside me
was showing for her
#tgif for the nights I'd spend with her til early morning in love

Ms. Mabelline Merryweather  might not follow all rules and regulations at Social Services to a T, but she does get the job done efficiently. She knows well paper pile-ups, bureaucratic mumbo jumbo is second language to her. No unruly impatient Podunk piece of indigent indecency can rile the likes of Ms. Mabelline. She's cool as a cucumber on a chilled salad bar. Speaking of which, it is just now two minutes away from Ms. Mabelline's cherished lunch entourage with fellow ladies of the office. So, if you'd like to get your claim copied and filed quickly, you'll give Ms. Mabelline her due respect, else your *** might be chilling back in the waiting room, till she's finished laughing over your pathetic life from a table at TGIF's this noon hour. You know, claim uncertainties and misfilings have been known to jam up processing for weeks, don't ya know?

I was asked
If I knew what "TGIF" meant

I responded I was one
Of these people that
Enjoyed Monday as
Much as Friday

The western man does
Not understand
Work without effort

Monday is the same
As Friday
Same Sun
Same moon

It's the same
During the week
I may stand
At the job site

On Friday evening
I may stand at the gym
Same difference

There is nothing special
About a Friday

If you are working
If you are acting
You are losing
You have bought into
What you are being sold
What you are being told

Thank goodness
Thank goodness for Monday
T.G.I.M.

Human life
What's it all about

Eating, sleeping

Relaxing in the park

Maybe going on a hike today

I had Kodiak cakes yesterday
Had them today

I guess it would be nice
To go on a hike
With a woman

I'll go to the gym
Work out alone

After a certain time
I learned to just breathe
And relax

All of life
Is just one big vacation

Forget TGIF

Friday is the same
As Monday

It's all one
Big experiment

We are told
To crave
To one
To desire
And to strive

But there is absolutely
Nothing here

Listening to a podcast
Going to my job
Working out

It's really all
The same
Same empty program

And who would want
To live forever

Everything is falling
Falling away

Everything is decaying
Oh well

My body goes here
And then it goes there

I am a minimalist
It once occurred to me

That the world's
Most powerful nations
Will destroy the world
By beginning World War III

I heard someone say
Life is funny
It's just man
Repeating
The same mistakes
Over and over again

The human race
Won't change
Leaders will lead nations
Into war

The innocent population
Will suffer

Nothing new
I hope there is no
World War III

With no make on and eye lash hangin’
Pumping on E. bassy travelling the subway
Friday jumps on you, with expectation galore: Drink, gloat, sitting on-
Refurbished old rustic sofas on the far end of the bar.

Would your TGIF be a spent screaming over the music?
To make yourself heard with sweaty drunk happy hearts grinding?
Or would it be a cosy comforter holding you tight-
While you binge on anything scrolled now since the dragons flew?

Measuring ourselves to our own scales is-
Scary, if mildly put; social beings we are, to be, is a need-
But contentment may lie in unexpected unsocial moments sometime then-
As the years grey by, clear becomes the crystal, ever much so.

Random thoughts of a wandering mind;
Smother not, caress quietly- tune into some AI’d playlist;
Put on that conversation repellent, we all call earphones
And glow warmly in your sweet company, for it is TGI’my’F.

Everyday feels like Friday,
Except Friday.
Friday feels like Monday.
I think about a Saturday.
Saturday is a Friday evening.
Sunday feels like a Friday after the party.
Monday thru Thursday blends,
Into one long *** Friday.
But I’m home.
None of this makes sense.
The days blend.
Oh they blend some more.
I keep waiting for the weekend I guess.
When the longest week of my life
Is over.
TGIF