Please let the sun bathe me today, I think, throwing up the bed-sheets, searching for my elastic hair-band under my pillow. Please let it.
I feel tired, with all the rain
slipping into my soul and watering dark corners
where scraggly weeds grow.
I am drowsy, sickened hearing the continuous
thrums of the voices chanting in cacophony,
in symphony, in harmony, in the most dreadful of
melodies, telling me to hurry up
get on with life there is little time to waste i told you would
regret not waking up early, regret not eating lesser for lunch,
regret not studying for that test, regret not packing your ruler in your pencil case,
regret not accepting help when hands were extended to you,
regret yelling at your mother, your father,
your brother, your dog,
I am angry; boiling rage simmers within me and
licks of it escape via nostrils and ear-holes and dilated pupils,
flashes of red and smoke unfurling from my fingers and words as
heavy and as hot as coal volley out of my mouth;
broken lips, broken lips —
I chap my own lips and scratch my own throat with curses and with
sarcasm as harsh as the
glare of the sun.
I regret. I sink into an oblivion that threatens to swallow me whole,
oh dear, mom please help I’m sorry dad I should never have said that
God I didn’t mean to stick my middle finger up to Heaven. I really
And I regret, please. In my teary rage and depression,
all I saw was grey slates and red skies and blossoming guilt
blooming in front of my eyes
like some kind of ugly flower.
I just wanted sunshine to hammer into my soul
and screw it into my brain
and feel it deep in my heart and my rib-cage amidst the thumping of life processes;
I just wanted to feel the sunshine.