Mumble.

Find these worked up muscles

obscured and bound by the work of their day.

Wrapped in stiff and molecular strain.

My body is beaten.

Try hard, heart. Pump your blood to my body.

I need the company.

The company of my old self, my old happy self.

Shy away from my consciousness unforgiving parasite.

Agh. My vertical heaven is still a carriage away.

I stir my head just to dizzy the dizziness.

Go out! I find you abhorring.

Go out! I'm frustrated.

Leave me now. I am tired.

They say that a jejune of a day

brings food to the plate

but my soul is hungry.

Hungry for the palatable creativity of trees, oh trees, 

and sky, so blue. I see a dove fly by.

I am so unnerving.

Don't listen to me, self.

Author's Note

Someone try and analyze this. Or is true to the title?

Reviews

[lee von cleef]

Stuck under the dark skin of day real, real seems locked away, a pop tart left over in the toaster from yesterday, stale, hard, crumbs collected on your last knitted sweater,
remote broke threw the screens outer protection.
Did this fit?