what is with these ballet shoes?
I've been dancing, dancing
But they are starting to wear out

what is with this resignation
plausibility
i'm still strapped to the ribbons on my feet

Yesterday I was clever.
That is why I wanted to change the world.
Today I am wise.
That is why I am changing myself

jealousy

Jealousy,
You are my mind's purity-stealer,
You are my heart's peace-intruder,
You are my life's divinity - invader!

onward,

it is seven thirty

past the break of dawn

sweeping, fli cker ing

flirtatiously

f a i n t ly

beckoning my restless body

an inkling of dreams

but i cannot, and i succumb to the grip of my pencil

and the social network of which i whore shamelessly

only thinking of a singer's resonating tune that will greet me soon

and the sweet interference of morality

Might I presume?

Another pleasure of thought

Hours of laughter

As sweet as port

after which i drift back into my cheating slumber

oneyearfiftyonethousand

and

two hundred

has our discovery waned?

has our love yielded to obscurity

it no longer sparks

when our fingers touch

and my unseen tears

drown in my empty well

First Day

squeak.

first day.

The musky smell of old wood,

peeling walls.

the drone of the air conditioner,

reverberating engine, whirring, singing its tune of awakening once again

I sit at my wooden desk

and I breathe the stale air of work

and the plastic smells of computers

and I listen

to the sounds of a movie playing

my mind is ticking

in a constant beat.

constant.

Warm yellow lights, they fill my eyes

I glance at my boss's table

in its lovely, cluttered glory

A loaf of bread, wires entwined like the exposed roots of an ancient tree

half eaten lunch, chopstick peeking from the side of its styrofoam box

piles and piles of loose paper

screaming to be shredded

they smile at me.

and again the smells, the old paint

organised mess

I think of my room at home

poring over paintings,

my lamp light at night.

and I sigh.

First day.