afthi

it’s too early for a Sunday morning / awake, lying in the bones of a week / the days are too regular, too hurried and unshining / they come on and on like slanted rain in my face / blinding me to things remaining simple / there are lessons to be found, somewhere / hidden in the rubble of me, in the playground / behind the ageless school of existence / - – - / I spend these hours absent of e…