monday

Monday. Three weeks have passed, in a frenetic breakneck fever pitch, struggling with car trouble, icy relationship drama, inevitable endings and bitter, ash-blotched closures; a festival has come to pass, exploding, screaming, hyper-ventilating, posturing, exhibiting and exhaling deeply into the colour and light stained sky.
I was in an in between space, when the bells began clanging around me, this time, like between pages, one almost read and the other soon to be turned, frayed, yellowing pages, exhausted by the encumbrance of incident, cause, effect and portent.
I walked through a long translucent pipe, a glittering, phosphorescence bathing the undersides of the pipe, old ghosts, new comrades, fallen portions of memory, left behind strands of life clinging to the walls of the pipe, brushing across my hair as i held a bottle very close to my chest, part restorative, part purgative, carrying me in its perfume, out into the bejeweled exit door.
And, here i am, on a Monday wrap. There is still a lingering whiff of a beautiful, gaudy, carnivorous ending in the air, a long, warm breath spilling a wan, mildly melancholic listlessness on the walls and roads.
I have little to do, today. And reading in a coffee shop i feel a yearning for the year to peel off, as it must, its baggage and furniture of happening, gain, loss, joy and misery already gathering a patina of dust, i feel a quiet, subdued charge in my veins, an imperceptible passing of electricity, connecting grains to create shadow formations of what maybe.
Around me aged lovers cozy, meeting secretly i think, their love unstated and sweetly platonic, chatter on chores and duties. Young baristas are lively and excitable, devouring cheese sandwich counting supplies and keeping records.
It seems to me like a day has ended. An afterlight is crawling upon the walls. And a night, long, bloated, stricken with love, like a sickness and pain, like an obsession is falling apart, the sun hanging on its eyeballs.
330 word