blue monday 2016


the city of 2.615 million
minus one

nothing

no

elation
sorrow
cold wind on red nose
warmth in heart on way home
spring in steps on way to work

dinner getting cold as
it taste of nothing
wolfing down every scrap in the fridge
because it is improbable that
nothing taste of something
but that it is

the world through a filter
bit of a joke
so hipster
blurry filter imitating the old days
muted
pixelated
artificially aged
as if
if the days are actually old
old enough to be transparent
like apparition of leaves
once green and alive
now transparent golden bristle wings
wings that arent attached to anything
time flowing without reference
dulled senses
days and nights rolling into muddle

trying to hold onto the beauty
that everyone's pointing at
may be an anchor

drowning
slowly
perhaps a dream
a desiccation
a shell left behind

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