it's that time when sunday night breaks into monday morning.
i stand in my old bedroom, looking out the window, past the fir tree the same age as me, upon snowflakes bulleting down. icy rain.
the streets look normal, but are a hazard under the icy glaze of sheer ice.
my ears are ringing from my mom's shrieking into the closed door.
the door that closes my brother off from her. from me. from reality.
toes curled under, my hands clenched into balls at my side. i'm tense, and tired.
the things left unsaid for so long, come out now. it all comes out now. everything looks so perfect from a distance, but is dangerous up close. a slippery slope.
suddenly it's monday morning, and another week begins just as the last.
i stand in my old bedroom, looking out the window, past the fir tree the same age as me, upon snowflakes bulleting down. icy rain.
the streets look normal, but are a hazard under the icy glaze of sheer ice.
my ears are ringing from my mom's shrieking into the closed door.
the door that closes my brother off from her. from me. from reality.
toes curled under, my hands clenched into balls at my side. i'm tense, and tired.
the things left unsaid for so long, come out now. it all comes out now. everything looks so perfect from a distance, but is dangerous up close. a slippery slope.
suddenly it's monday morning, and another week begins just as the last.
It's broken, slightly disjointed and the underlying emotion is undeniable - so much like real life it's scary.