It’s Friday and I should be excited
But I’m up early instead of being asleep
Under the covers of my blanket
Keeping warm from the cold rain
I’m up preparing breakfast
Eating stale crackers
To fill my belly.
The warmth of the coffee comforts me
And the staleness of the crackers is somehow welcoming
When did love become a chore?
When did effort became so tiresome?
When did happiness became scarce?
Music suddenly sounds stale
Nothing is making sense.
You drag your feet but get nowhere
And everything around you is darkness
When did these fall apart?
When did everything became such a chore?
no curves, no turns, dead straight and plain flat
not a winding road, not a curly hair, not a crease
or any trace of activity
just plain and simple and flat-out
that’s it, that’s all
no design, no majestic or grand entrance
as quite as can be
simply flat and that’s that
unnoticeable, unlikely, forgettable
simple, stale, boring —– flat
nothing more, most likely less
but that is that