Two minutes had not passed before the hot cup of coffee before me spewed gallons of steaming rose buds up the ceiling.
I withdrew myself from the scene and rummaged through the medicine cabinet.
It dawned upon me that my days may have crossed paths; monday and tuesday switching seats, so to speak.
My appointment with the good doctor behind me; the walls perspired.
Should I, pay the doctor a visit?
The idea is taboo. The anxious thoughts which follow, sacrilege.
Without any hope of sanity without my medicine; at least, not while I am conscious; the only true option is sleep.
With my marron curtains shut and the outside world abandoned; I lay in wait for that blank world which takes me so often every night.
Buzzing wings of a fly. My neighbour has a fly hovering over her trash can.
There’s a bus stop sign upside down on the ceiling of my toilet.