Mid-day

Playing hide and seek with dirty dishes

Flat autonomy, silent rebellion

Clean garments hidden in dull laundry sacks

Strange envelopes infused with vast numbers

The hours tick at sloth’s pace, blank walls blend

There, rhetorical questions lie untamed

Visions wreck havoc on reality

The present flirts desperately with history

Of war, of love, frowns of uncertainty

Why couldn’t the broken parts have been repaired?