deepundergroundpoetry.com

Fridays

Some days are long.
Some days are nosebleeds and spoonless sugar bowls,
strangers who help you when you haven't enough hands.
Some days are filled with the screams of wordlessness and innocence.
Some days are clouds and rain.
Some days I am reckless with willing, yet my physical stays stationary.
Some days I watch boats on rebellious tides.
Some days I eat cake over the top of my responsibilities, those days I spill the crumbs of self loathing on their head.
Out trickles the hollowness, the conditioned reasonable action of it all and I wish, silently,
for free-er Fridays.
ImperfectedStone
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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