17 July 2012
The fumbled glasses are dropped onto my face. Sweaty feet stick to the floor
The sharp needles of a power shower prick my awaking body Slowly life drifts back into my body
What to wear? Choices to decide; Home or away? Leather shoes on a timber floor.... a strong sound
Breakfast.. Not today thank you Gotta go, gotta go Rush to say goodbye - pure habit Empty rooms, locked doors The sound of memories are all that is left
The Day • Opuss № I