A moment, last post, ( on monday)

It is Monday.
Moon day.
I’m saddened
Reasonless

I open random blogs and start commenting
I open my own blog but don’t know how to start.
I accept tears from the opposite part of town.
I pause, hearing the sobs on the other side of the line.
I am here and somewhere else.
Those sobs are also mine.
In mornings like today, or nights like now.

The Moon shines,
Monday’s natural
Suffocating atmosphere

Ergo, when you receive a message
And it makes you smile
You don’t understand why

I read it and decided to change aspects.
I ‘m holding my cry , the phone rings.
Again, sweet voices and hurried exchanges.
I’m filling the blanks,
Counting the blacks
Enigmas again,
The alphabet is not only made of A’s and B’s

Monday,
I noticed I can’t see the moon
But I can hear the strong strikes of the train
Like the antique clock telling the story
Of your life
The railroad is far away
But at this time, it echoes and waves to my window
The calm wind brings it inside

Travelling, I am away now
Saddened, because of a dot.
Afraid to sleep, Afraid to wake up
Not wanting to do, but wanting to exist

I shared that moment with you so you would be happy.
Strangely, we are both in the same dilemma.
Yours is even harder than mine,
I want all the best for you,
I want to hold you and ask you to forget
I can’t even say anything really warm or comforting.

We create excuses together,
We run down the stairs even though it hurts,
I’m caring my bag,
The dog was ugly but lonely

On my way back I’m isolated
I see a familiar face
We talk
It makes me smile

I smiled twice without noticing.
I notice it now because I’m serious.
I’ve opened this blog today.

Monday, Monday
The song confuses itself with walk like an Egyptian
I need to accomplish one thing before the week ends
It will define my life for the next year or maybe longer
But instead of moving around, working hard
I am here, writing, and thinking about something I should forget.
I open the door politely
It is late.
I write things I don’t want to.
I write without thought.
I write for fun.
I write to express what I constantly wonder.
I can’t write to impress.
I can’t write when I need.
My writer’s block only exist in the presence of real people.
I open this blog.
I read around, quickly, without much attention.
Like browsing a newspaper or a book you will never read.

It’s very easy once you start,
It is hard to stop.
It’s like an urge on your fingers.
So much to say, so much to listen,
Inexistent ties.

Monday is gone, I welcome a new day.