Wednesday

When the lawnmower

Passes through my window

I will be able to weep

Even louder than now

I don’t want to scare the birds

With my tears and my despair

 

Three days without rest

Seventy-two hours spilling my past

Trying to grasp and think of what will be

So many minutes waiting for the end

The rest stops on the road are closed

A payphone, few coins, but no one to call

 

They are sore, my eyes, my aching soul

Green, white, and blue

The only colors from outside

Inside it’s like a fifty’s movie

No color at all, a cave; my pains

I already know the shapes from the frame

 

I breathe in the fake air every day

I’m confused with all of them

Part of a worthless bunch

Nameless faces walking on dead ends

I’m scared I too will lose myself

While I hit yet another concrete wall

 

The mountains look alike

But the rest is slow and poor

They think they’re the best

Oh, sir, what a shame

You wouldn’t recognize gold

From painted wood

 

Veins that shiver all-day

I feel like a heavy woman

Neglected by herself, hated

With a mind playing tricks on her

But my mind is evil and wicked

And I’m not obese, just hazy

 

There’s a manual for all of this

I could list the symptoms

And tell you what to take for it

But I wouldn’t because I can hide them

Even if I have to wait for weekdays

So that I can spill all my demons out

The gardener heard my crying pain

Stood in front of my window

But I ran and closed the curtain 

Leave me the fuck alone 

It's just me and my sad days

It's just me running from myself