Die Tücke Der Dinge

Do you sometimes, in a vain attempt to laugh
Twig that your face, kinda resembles a vase cracked in half?
But each side still refuses to part ways
Much like the aquatic horizon
When you take a studying look from afar

The way the sky and the ocean lay so close

Brothers of kin, yet they still spar on territories
You can vaguely tell where one ends and the next begins
In the haze of the distance
Such is your first notion
When you try to reach out for the specs of dust
Stuck in the narrow trail that divides your features
Unevenly

Something is, fundamentally and profoundly
Wrong with you today,
Just like every other day

And you can sniff it in the air
You can feel it in your guts
Off your game; as you strut, you even forgot the lyrics to the song
You used to hum while dwelling in your daily routine
Fell out of rhythm and can't seem to catch up with the choir of the seen

Something must've happened
Tomorrow
Something is going to happen
Yesterday

She says, smirking
Wonder why don't our lips sync, myself and that one talking
Through the mirror

I rewind back to 7:05 am; I open my eyes already in an a bad temper
My alarm went off by mistake, it seems, so I try to fall back into slumber
Believing it is Friday morning
I get up 20 mins later so disappointed when I remember

That Friday morning was two days ago

As was cavalierly observed by that calender on the opposite wall
Random scenes from the last dream I had
Are trapped in bubbles, seeping from the open windows of my skull
They float all around, teasing
I try to take a look at each before it pops

I fail

Today, I'm not feelin' well
I try to figure out why
And I think so hard
Dig deep within the dungeons of my heart
Reach up the cells in my tired brain
Rummaging through the drawers of my recollections
Too busy to tighten the weaves of my thoughts
And my reflections like beads hanging on a string of silk
The earliest signs of a bloody migraine
And it snaps, sadly
Sending the contents of my mind on the run
Faster than slaves catching a glimpse of their freedom
I watch the last one
As it unhurriedly rolls
Decelerating to a stop
At the borders
Of Spain

I'm sorry, you were sayin' ?

My itching bones are telling me showers with chances of disappointments
Are in the weather cast of my mood today
But I can't tell exactly when

This vexation and bewilderment 

Exhaustion and astonishment at this naive trust in my intuition
They drive me insane, frenziedly going round the bend

But ,stay, where did it all go wrong? yesterday,
I asked as I looked upon my tormented countenance 

Was it that vile comment that concluded the argument ?
The unreturned smile I shot at my estranged friend?
The story I told with discernible zeal
That still in the end didn't get much appeal?
The jerk who cut me off without giving a signal?
That one cynical remark that ruined my meal ?
A dented floor tile that brought me falling on my face
While cat-walking in grace?
I can't seem to trace the whole series of events
But this rend on my face has been making weird noises
And the curve of my smile is starting to descend
Folks around venture to ask me blatantly if I'm doing fine
So I cover my facial cracks with the mask of a clown
Because for the life of me , I can't seem to find
What on God's green earth has caused my face to sunder

I wonder
At long
And it occurs to me to look up to the sun
Feel the early summer breeze tickling my cheeks, so tender
Them warm rays caressing the invisible wrinkles on my skin
And I start to ponder on how it could be a glitch in my hunch
That, most prolly, a burlesque series of events every once in a while
Could add some fun to my insipid life-style
So I finally surrender to the embrace of optimism

Today,
 I ain't breaking, peasants

After which I skip all the way, while I glitter and be gay
I get interrupted then, though, with a treacherous swing at my jaw
From which I craftily sway and venture to spring
But I nonetheless get kicked right in the kidney
And I get pushed under, have my dignity along with my temples
Get trampled to the floor I could taste the dirt

But I , somehow, in my habitual naivety
Still believe that I could handle some more

I whisper to my numb limbs through my missing incisives
While preparing myself for the fatal, the decisive

Sometimes you gotta lay there, beaten ,and have a frank talk with your ego
On prospect methods of mitigation
It all goes blank, halfway
Every time
I fast-backward to 7:05 am next morning

And I press Replay