Scribbled Thoughts

Wash away

and suck out the dirt

before moving on

to paint over

uneven surfaces.

Does it disguise

the imperfect?

Do you

want it to?

Set up a plan,

stages of the future

with one notable absence,

saying without words

your real feelings,

expectations,

of that impossible concept.

Four years of waiting

until anticipation stopped

and quiet acceptance settled.

Now its end

is greeted with disbelief,

melting away into a happiness

not felt

in months and months

of grief.

Awakened corpse

renews your world

and happiness

falls into place,

one you haven’t felt

in quite some time.

Ten days

of wanting

but never reaching

the end.

Is there an end

anymore?

Has it

already gone?

A heavier future

to hold up,

but you are determined

to fight for it,

raise it higher

even if your

arms break,

even if it

completely

crushes you.

Revelations

arriving sooner

than you hoped,

filling the months

with purpose

and a goal.

Maybe, finally,

a big enough distraction

from the pending

trial and verdict.

Restrict intake

so sleep will be

a reward,

ready to rest

between endless work,

too tired for hobbies,

too tired for happiness.

The constant ring

of pressure verbalised

makes eyes ache

and temper strain.

Always the same

with no sympathy,

how much more

should you carry

before snapping?

Empty evidence

stain the cleanliness

you spent all day

achieving.

Your reward is gone

into a thoughtless mouth,

one whose regret

will be brief

and non-repentant.