Routine

Wake up. Put on clothes. That outfit looks bad. Put on new clothes.
You’re ready to start the day.
Leave your room. Eat breakfast. Put in your headphones.
You’re ready to start the day.

Catch the bus. Avoid eye contact. Turn your music up.
You’re halfway there.
Step off the bus. Go to class. Try not to fall asleep.
You’re halfway there.

Get back on the bus. Eat some lunch. Go back to your room.
No more responsibilities.
Fill your backpack. Go for a walk. Clear your mind.
No more responsibilities.

2/8/2017 // 8:54 am

 

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Routine

Sunday

White flakes of heaven fall from the sky.
Tendrils of my lungs move upwards.
I look to my left and see two squirrels,
Bushy tails and bright eyes swiftly navigating the lush forest.

One chases the other upwards,
Winding their way upwards around the rough bark.

Inhale. Exhale.
Sizzling echoes of my youth reverberate in my ears.
Inhale. Exhale.
Time begins to slow as the vapor reaches into my chest.

I blink as the grey turns to a hue of lavender.
All around me the woods begin to shift.
The squirrels can no longer be seen.
Nobody is around.

Still, everything moves upwards.
Slowly, without a purpose.

2/6/17 // 9:20 am

Sunday

Lamppost

Towering over them as they pass by,
Proud, erect, powerful.
His slender frame,
Blocking the rays falling down.

Blue fades into yellow into orange into black.

His body fading into the midnight frame.
A slight hum fills the air.
Flickering to life,
So far above the frosted pavement.

His head, pronounced.
Emanating scintillant beams,
Deep into the night sky.

2/2/17 // 9:30 pm

Lamppost

Hope

Glimmering hope spills down the jagged edges of the mountain,
Tentatively moving its tendrils towards the base.
The deep orange glow seeks to warm a heart so cold,
Its tentacles slithering towards the reverberating organ.

At last it grabs hold,
Grappling with the numbing touch of its flesh.
The pink flesh pounding harder as each tendril takes hold.
Slowly it begins to thaw.

The amber beast seeks to comfort,
to mend the flesh of the broken.
Its fleshy extremities grabbing blindly at those who have lost hope
Let the warm wash over you until you are whole again.

1/31/2017 // 8:03 am

Hope