Fridays make the weekend feel like it’s over,

because now it’s the beginning of more work.

I’m going back to bed now.

N is right, that person truly is more talk than work. How difficult could putting the stuff into the table be?

It took me ten minutes, and if it had taken more I would have baulked.

I definitely want to think that I have done quite enough balancing and editing, no?

Other than desecrating the content of our teammates in favour of self-verbiage what was that contribution?

I cannot stand it, and we now know to not want to pick, if we had the choice to pick.

Wednesday evening class was the most awkward and intolerable one in a long while.

The food was not good, and the first two stalls we wanted have somehow closed in this time period. Then also we collected the paper we knew had been badly done and received comfort for it.

But I think I am not in want of another’s comfort. I am in want of my own.

The taiyaki choked me the same way the long wait for the other food with no book to read and the phone dying like I was, did, slowly, waiting.

A disappointing meal, again.

Next time we would be better off going hungry.

U-turns on narrow dividers and wide dividers,

over white lines and across pedestrain crossings.

Truly, now I am at one with the drive.

I hoped that you would not find these words,

since there is not much left of ‘me’ to me found in them.

There is only the sound of exhausation here,

the quietness of a lack of love,

enveloped in sorrow,

served like a due.

To the beetle who had been on the curtain last night,

I hope you will not come in tonight and buzz about the room.

If not I will wish hard that the fan decapitates you.

Failing which your buzzing will drive me to madness and I will

catch you in the plastic bag again.

Only tonight I will not release you out my window.

What a bad day today has been, despite all that had been buono.


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