An Hour’s Past

I’ve lasted for my hell week, gloating while anticipating this…a session uninterrupted by either din or nuisance; stressed by helpless impulse or necessity. Now I’m done for my stress as acquired by thus hell I wagered I could make, sequestered from the world is my routine…brought back from my unwritten will, or as much as I am blind now and again tomorrow, after one visit, after one waypoint elsewhere I’m surrounded by the cage of yesterday.

Now I call them in my heart for this familiar distance, meanwhile securing my tears for when we’ll never be apart. *Tightens her fist* So long as we’re left alone in our individual havens, I’ll take the world as my desire and along with you our selfish playground.

My clock comes by day and night, and an hour’s past when I remember to blink. As the owner of my passage, this surreal wake I have escaladed, I surge throughout a varied labyrinth and always land in this similar tunnel. *A breathing stare reigns still solemn*.

And no matter how I dream and lose myself in these pages, it falls on me my neighbor’s distance…and even if my colored eyes narrow my lust is shallow, as my senses remind me where I really am.