Wednesday

your face is stained,
these tears will never fade they are too bright and hard and real they keep you company at night, deep down buried in your bed like its a cave like its a box ever so dark and silent and just you stuck inside- and the anger, the anger, the fury blind fury like heat rising up and just begging to explode and smash cups and smash glass and slam the door once, twice...

the overwhelming despair because where was everyone? where is everyone? how will you keep hold of your youth like this, with the thirty cigarettes a day and the winters and the clock ticking on the fucking wall, tick tick- just a non stop reminder of wasted energies, wasted principles- and the lies and the deceit cutting into you like crooked, wicked knives, just daring you to react, to know, to open your eyes and remember and it's all too late however much you dance and get pissed, muse over this style or that, if your wooden earrings will look good in the sun with your new blue dress, because deep down you know the mirror is watching you now, just waiting, biting it's lips, biding it's time, knowing soon enough you'll wake up one day and you wont recognise yourself any more; the pain and the worry and the fear just sinking in slowly, changing you, shifting you into something you promised you'd never become.
the washing is done and needs sorting and you still need to buy a hoover and phone the bank and suddenly it makes you feel old, too old but you try to brush it off, deny it, so you speak to your friend on the phone and laugh too loudly, say too much, offer too much- compensating. you didn't do that once.
then weary you switch on the tv, light up, watch the news, dismayed, appalled- earth's problems sit heavy on your shoulders, but apathy is easier now, more familiar- because where did giving a shit get you, what did being kind achieve? you change channels and everyone is so normal, you feel so left out, so bewildered, and you stare at the faces whilst your fingers tremble and your heart is sore like you're ill so you turn away and press your face into the cushions and hide, just a few seconds- a few moments of almost-suffocation, it helps clear the mind and briefly you wonder if you should stay like that, not breathing, just to see how long you could last, see how urgent the need to inhale again would be
but then the kids from over the road start screaming and swearing outside your house and a mixture of anger and curiosity force you up out of your secret dalliance with suicide and you're gasping, gasping, amazed you could do that to yourself and strangely proud- a sick euphoria rushing through your body as you stumble to the window and bang on it wildly, mouthing 'fuck off' and they glance over at you, lazy, prepared for battle, arrogant- but somehow it's enough- the crazy hair and the heat in your eyes that hints at something dark, really dark and they drift away, frightened, their hearts pounding, jeering at your silhouette as you close the curtains, close them out... and you shiver as you stare at the same four walls and they stare back, so you try- you try one more time to get it right- after all it's wednesday and that was always your favourite day. your hands still tremble as you light another cigarette but you feel lighter so you stick on The Smiths and think about dinner.