Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Monday Morning

By
One final piece of liquid darkness bids farewell
Your eyelids erupt- struck by the rapid sensation of buzzing light
Burning red numbers screaming from somewhere far away-
Broken noise digging into your distracted ears
Barely listening to fuzzy, muffled, familiar warnings, your thoughts begin to stick
Reluctantly embrassing the clarity pouring into your eyes like a faucet
Your voice drips with fake intentions
Hand-fulls of limp, incoherent words scattered carelessly through the vacant fog of consciousness
Waves of wounded miracles waltzing through your mind in momentary rivers, whisper away as you finally rise
Unfazed by pale routine, killing the strange blue shadow on the doormat and squeeze out into the open world
Seeing through overcast eyes under the downcast sky, the crisp shock of frozen air laces through your lungs





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback