mondays
are for hoping
this week goes
better than
the previous
knowing they
all slip into
an indeterminable
fugue of mutually
assured sameness

there is
nothing more
humans being
human beings
than constructing
a continual loop
a cozy repetition
and expecting
anything to
actually change

this fear of
new routines leaves
a paralysis in
the face of change
existing is a horror
completely out of
our control so we
segment everything
into manageable
incrementsindistinguishable
until it all becomes
a slurry with brief
moments of beautiful
tragedies frozen in
the construct of time
where the most unreliable
narrator of all is
ourselves alone