I sit in the hollows of a new week
Hung over
From being with you
Dizzy from the sharp transition
Of life with you
And everything else
This world doesn’t matter
It’s lonely and pointless
This world of endless Mondays
Until I see you again
I am hung out by the second hand
It’s tick like an ax in my forehead
Repeatedly pounding
At the void of your presence
These vaccuumous Mondays
Where my guts splash up into my throat
They paint the base of my brain
Covering memories once so vibrant and fresh
Dulling the truth of my life
The truth that I’ve known
Since I have found you
