there is a
pall
that hovers
over
sundays
a sense
of
my own
existence
ending
put back
into
cryogenic
sleep
again
relegated
to
popsicle
status
for weeks
the silence
screams
in a way
the chatter
doesn’t
empty
apartment
empty
head
of hopelessness
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
I think I’m the only one that likes sundays 🤷♀️
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maybe, i like mondays so i am not the best judge
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“The silence screams in a way the chatter does'” Sunday’s have always held that ineffable but close to palatable emptiness…..
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worst day of the week by a long stretch
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