An ode to waking up on a Monday, only to clean the debris of days gone by. The piled up excesses in the wreckages of the weekend, slovenly sullying the taintless demeanour of pristine surroundings with the leavings of greedy exuberance that somehow tends to concentrate in a forty-eight-hour debacle of lavish overloads, aided and abetted by passive dilatoriness.
Oh, to wake up under a fullsome pyramid of crumbling redundancy, noticeable decayed moments perishing in corners collecting wisps of microscopic tumbleweeds, collecting momentum, gathering dust.
Absoluteness for the need to begin anew hitting hard; the punctured mien slowly disengaging from holiday abstractions of eschewing existence into palpable constructive solidity.
Sighs.
Oh, to wake up under a fullsome pyramid of crumbling redundancy, noticeable decayed moments perishing in corners collecting wisps of microscopic tumbleweeds, collecting momentum, gathering dust.
Absoluteness for the need to begin anew hitting hard; the punctured mien slowly disengaging from holiday abstractions of eschewing existence into palpable constructive solidity.
Sighs.