Marvel at your earnings,
then watch the calculations
dwindle away everything
as you earn the right
to live and breathe comfortably.
Can you add up
to create extra?
Can you plan
to extend if there’s
nothing left to
dip into?
23:202
The dough monster
grows in the early hours
of the morning,
feeding off sleep and darkness
and rising to escape its prison
of metal and contained heat.
It will envelop and drown
its victims,
unable to cry out
as its sticky residue
clogs their throat
and hides their remains.
All will be lost,
all will rise again.
23:201
Eager to begin
you rise early,
too early,
pushing against
the barriers
that will not yield
and bursting sideways,
oozing out all potential
and leaving disaster
for all to gaze at
and despair.
23:200
Dump ingredients of chaos
in a bowl and watch
it spin into one lump,
hiding secrets
and temptations
unnoticed until they rise
and stand tall
for all the world
to see.
23:199
Send out the notices of
disruption, predict the frustration,
but forewarned is better
than blindness.
Walk the road of closure
and see it still open,
cars zooming past
as you walk,
irritation growing with
each step.
A hedgehog scurries across,
the first to be seen in years,
and makes the lies
all worth it.
23:198
The looming throb of defeat
pulses like a clock’s doom,
circling nearer
and wrapping around your will
until a heavy sigh
signals the end
and you relinquish
into submission.
23:197
Shrinking presence of people
that were relied upon,
dependant,
willing to help when your world
heated up and closed in,
suffocating you
and squashing your breath away.
Now they tell you
to move anyway,
breathe through a straw
and carry on.
No one is coming anymore.
23:196
One day of freedom
you achieved,
slipping from our grasp
to taste real life.
We remained here,
bitter,
failing to perform
what we expect from you,
leaving untainted products
to harden and resent,
failing to prep
anything that would make
your return easier.
How dare you try
to escape,
there is no escape.
23:195
Holding on
to the belief,
the need,
to be better,
hoping you are a good person
in your core
and that your hesitation to help
is from fear
rather than selfish preservation.
But either way
you fail to help,
so what does it matter
that you feel bad,
they are still dead.
23:194
Little glimpse into your
movements to quell
the mystery
of your life without
my presence.
Would they be the same
if I did not exist
in your world?
Have I shaped you
as a person
or squashed you
into submission?
What about me?
Was I always
meant to be this?
Scribbled Thoughts 