Six thirty.
Cocooned inside the patterns of my blanket.
Its threads wrapped all around me.
Making my body look contorted, disformed.
Rays of sun beat through the window pane.
Heat presses itself against my exposed skin.
Light reaching each corner of my room.
Glancing, my tired eyes surveying each inch.
Clothes lie upon the hardwood floor.
Smothering the deep beauty of each grain.
Paint chipped off my plastered walls.
Showing its true beauty; pale, stained.
Six forty five.
Threads unwinding.
Releasing my legs, arms, body from their grasp.
Denuding each inch of myself.
With tender feet I tip-toe.
Each step taken with thought and care.
Five other souls sleeping.
My mother restless as she rolls around.
Quietly I peer into the bathroom mirror.
Assessing each flaw my face has to offer.
Turning the cold sink knobs, water begins to trickle.
Slowly washing off the morning dew.
Seven.
Time appears to be standing still.
As my hands reach for my Nike's.
Feeling the laces taught against my fingers.
Pulling them tight.
Criss crossing each one over the other.
Pulling tighter, my feet have room to breathe.
Each lace placed perfectly in a loop.
I'm tied.
Reaching for the knob it clicks.
Letting me know I'm free.
Pulling the door ajar, it creaks.
Praying no one else awakes from me.
Seven fifteen.
Stretch.
Breathing, feeling each muscle tighten and release.
Every air molecule around me bouncing.
As its warm, they dance.
My feet moving underneath me as I walk.
Left, right. Repeat.
Steady goes it, as I see the world around me.
Pondering, wondering what its like beyond what I see.
One last step.
Hitting my trail, I'm ready.
Looking back, I smile.
How far will my legs take me this time?
It's a mystery.
