April 12, 2016

Half a day/Sunday

Day walks

in the nearest park.

Evening cocktails

in reclusive places.

High in fat

lucullan feasts

or excessive

comford food consumption.

Definately not a day

to break someone’s heart.

Not a day at all

to remember yourself.

On Sundays we shrink.

On Sundays we slop.

We laugh at the world

in complete apathy.

We die of anxiety

in complete numbness.

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