Out of seven days freedom will only touch him on two, after the new beginnings strung together with congratulations ended, this was it. One tree to catch shade under; two days to be protected from the sun rays. Sure the smiles permeated through his mask of grief, and he will speak well of his sorrow. Pride wouldn’t let him have it any other way.
What sits underneath the heart has the power to kill everything in this premeditated path. Break apart foundations that took years to build, more than a decade to map out its blueprints. Everyday the questions ask louder, the answers burried in between his teeth and entangled in his speech; speaking sentences sprinkled with a bit of salt. Just enough optimism to play the role of contentment, although this left his home before the real world became real.
Reaching down into pockets of mediocrity pulling out faces that shout lies. A worth only worthy of wealth, and the tainted reflection of his new self. Which he can’t help but compare with the past days of nostalgia. That which he never knew existed until they faded; a life now routine in which he writes to avoid everything from becoming jaded. Daily struggle turned inside out on paper, inspiration rushing in waves. So fast that his fingers can’t slide across the screen quick enough, all hoped for became monotonous but still the beauty in all leaves traces of light in cornered shadows of an abandoned room.
Tomorrow in the clouds different outcomes will be seen, reaching remains tangible enough to pull to life. Will he? What will remain once the new phased has fallen from existence?