present
the shower runs a bit slowly this time around
7:30 pm it read but the sun outside refuses to sleep on me
the day refuses to end.
my thoughts conquer the time pretty magnificently everyday.
this time i remain present.
the walk towards the dressing with the dirty clothes in my hand
to dump the wet weighted gunk of the unkept promises i made to myself last night
I remain present.
i stare at my face a bit longer in the mirror to gaze at the burning nose
i got as a gift last month, partly could be called a salary for my unwarranted rebellion against the world in the name of bragging rights
I remain present
i stare at my body a bit longer, the form broke out the mould a long time ago
it stares back at me taunting me of the last time i broke that last record of not clasping for something out of spite, disdain and disappointment
I am not present.
walking at a steadily hasty pace around the dimming house is a charm in its own way
I remember to remain present.
i detangle my hair by going upside down because gravity helps to look at the back of my head where i keep my undrained dreams from the night. i stare at the floor to see the fallen soldiers who gave up to make things lighter for me.
The house approaches the dark as i open my window to let the stale air with breaths of visionary vice out, to mix with the air of the grounded reality, the air from the cars passing in chase to catch the feeling of belonging for the day. i remain present.
the chair near my desk is growing into a pile, a heap of unorganized roles that i play all day, alternated, repeated, turned and unturned. i start folding my wet towel, i was not present.
i must remain present.
my whites over my blacks over the greys over the blues
some whites touch my blues but some greys touch them all
what a mess!
some wrinkled, some smushed, some neatly straight and some folded through
the blacks
i hastily walk within the other room
to balance them over hangers, one is a bit too tight than the loose one.
i wear them according to the weight i want to carry on a day, one steadies my spine up straight when I forget to exhale and the other one makes me spill out the shaken and stand out in the sea of unstained.
at last the jumbled bedsheet that i fold in half to get a semblence of structure in the waves of stenched starch.
i remained present
atlast i sat on the bed with my makeshift desk on the pillow from the room where people live reminding me to remain present, not alone. At last, it's just my presence who remains alone.