Her name was Monday.

Her name was Monday and she would forever refuse to arrive silently. Despite the furious creeping and crashing permanently in the backs of all minds, we would stubbornly deny her steady advance. Silently contesting such perpetual marching of timely progression, kidding ourselves. Killing ourselves with the undreamt consequences of ducking out.

“I don’t want to go tomorrow.”
“I know, darling. You say this every time.” 

 

 

 

Leave a Comment:

SCROLL TO TOP