poetry | prose

tuesday breakdown

like a stone geisha
tucked into the fetal position
barely moving
except to breathe
breath is quickened
a need for oxygen
created by tears
and a million voices
flood my head
telling me i'm nothing
less than nothing
berated by large-mouthed demons
residing in the depth of my mind
i feel them pounding
on the inside of my skull
just another manic tuesday.

[Author's note: I went through a period where Tuesdays always seemed to go poorly for me. I wrote this about that strange phenomenon.]

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