I discovered a new dimension of days and hours...

My city- abode of lowlife, Homo neanderthalensis, baboons, and oafs.
Eviscerated from my thoughts, my own wish, mind you.
Accompanied by feeling of ridiculous comicality and small-scale-ness.
Like remorse, of a rape victim.

Monday. Quite possibly the worst day I can think of. The most gimpy and worthless part of the week.
I hate it, well, maybe not hate it, but its structure doesnt really suit me well.
Crisis of failures starts early in the morning, and I see its results later on.
And I am tired of this Monday, that hasn't come yet, this black, hurting and screaming at the top of its lungs Monday.


I discovered a new dimension of days and hours, when I lay in bed
silence surrounds me, and every inch of my body remembers your touch.
Magic? Perhaps. Even rain dribbles in the rhythm of my thoughts,
it's, hmmm, well, weird, and I'm satisfied.
Boards squeak, everyone is asleep, I silently whisper
"Please, dont make me wait for a miracle another day"
And lips still remember the kisses, it's the soul that's full of uncertainty and vague questions,
which quite possibly won't ever be answered.
Teach me how to dance, as I dont know steps to life's rhythm. I lost it.
I try to explain to myself that uncertanity, this unnamed feeling.
Nothing hurts more than the light of dawn
I fall asleep to wake up again
Maybe you dont necessarily know, maybe you dont want to know
Maybe we have to grow up.
Strong enough to feel, to wake the heart up.
Maybe it's waking up I need, adulthood of some sort,
but in a different meaning of that word.