an unrehearsed universe

Recyclables

I.  Mornings

She too could be recycled,
made useful past her first incarnation. 
What were her veins but tape,
keeping her insides from spilling? 
Fingering the box-cutter,
mind clear for the first time in weeks,
she grimaced.


II.  Afternoons

Fatigue-adjacent.

Blurred thoughts
sluggishly struggling for supremacy
eyeballs encrusted
engorged

the entire trajectory of the day
spent atop an edifice of dreams denied

the three-legged desk
creaking wheeled chair
underscoring her failed ambitions.

The open-air windowless cubicle
encompassed
the whole of the real world
dawning to twilight

actual open air a pathogen
spreading ideas of leisure
an enemy of the efficient
of the productive
of the good.


III.  Evenings

Viscous, that was the word,
the thick, pumping glue
accompanied by
a touch of light-headedness. 

Back and forth,
the droplets pooled,
tickling her elbows. 

This would take longer
than anticipated
despite the aspirin.