You arise in a dreamy state
the water is cold but you feel nothing
It runs right through you
the day is bright and ready
but your head feels heavy.
The glasses shade your eyes
they are your second skin to protect you from the world
the day is uncomfortable
harsh and foreign; filtered with hard edges and high contrast.
Now more feeling is returning
you feel defeated
the morning is slipping away.
Early afternoon comes with a moment of rest
you sit still and listen to suburbia.
Slowly, uninvited it protrudes on your idle brain
you know not of where it came
but its power is strong and determined.
again it pushes your spirit from its cage
the left and right bicker while you are lost in the dust.
You fetch a knife
blunt and solid
against your flesh it feels even blunter
you push and slide
a feeble attempt in a craft you know nothing about.
It is later in the night
you sit alone again
your room looms inwards
it is comfortable but old and tiresome
habituating, like the rest of existence.
The fridge is empty but there’s scotch in the cupboard.
You are more alone now everything’s gone silent
the cold of night has refrozen the feeling from your body.
You don’t know your friends or family
but you know this place you call home
you hate it but you hate most things
and at the moment you have nowhere else to run.