Shadows

Monday morning to afternoon is a
timeless zone,
those rooms and corridors have
supernatural powers, they drag your soul and steal any ounce of
self confidence, self-discipline
falling straight back into nervous laughs and
stand in the corner self-hatred.

It makes my hair lose its gravity and my face seem
cold and strange.
overweight and out of sight of all your little hatreds and words screamed through
banister rails,
only not really, only in this little circle of unreality and
dark stair cases, hair fall across my face this world is not my own.