A Day In My Life
Obscure mornings and waking up tired after a night's sleep
To the rumbling and quilting voices
Taking up over the symphonic late morning yellow hues
Staying put in your bed with your backbone struggling to strengthen up
To the expressions trying to make you question your virtue.
Seeing your own face in the mirror with your legs almost giving in to stand up.
The face that speaks, speaks of all the smoke that's been touching your lips, the insides of your mouth and your soul.
The ruffled hair through which you move your burnt and trembling fingers trying to make yourself look sane.
Forcing a smile onto yourself strongly opposed by the edges of your lips.
It's past breakfast with your mind still thinking of a placid early morning, your eyes will see it someday, someday.
Fourteen hours since you almost had a stomach full, it's noon and your body is still running on some unhealthy fuel.
It beeps there, right there, your lovers sending you cynic letters, which makes you jump and trench all together.
Stepping into the shower with your own body on a show, touching the scars telling your mind to let it all elope.
Holding on to that one piece of cloth with water dripping from your body to the cold floor finding the mirror, disrobed, putting up another show.
The allies waiting for you at some café offshore, you paint your tired face, add some glitter to your eyes and fragrance to your cadaver, ready to go.
Oh! Their concoct expressions and their minds, they embrace you in crude hugs.
You look at their faces and listen to the digressing words coming out of their feeble mouths, you look no different speaking.
After so vehemently investing your time and energy over such ingenuous drills, your mind is starting to give up, but your lungs, still making space for the smoke to fill in.
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