Another Monday has rolled by and I’d be hard pressed to recount what has happened. Seems to me that some Monday haze has drifted in like  a fog condensing directly behind my retina from the cooling of the weekend lost. The worst day of the week is all but over and I’m relieved that this transitional stage of perpetual motion is buried, never again to be resurrected, well not until the next dreadful cycle begins a week from now.

The fog is present although it is without me, I am lost from this worldly domain, or is it, that I have a desire to be lost from this worldly presence. The idea of disappearing is an ever present fantasy that encapsulates me with dreams of freedom and escape. In times of tribulation it promises relief from the burdensome mire I find myself swimming in. The mire seems to stir from the depths of a Sunday afternoon when I have a rendezvous with reality. I quiver and shudder in unison with the coming of its shallow red tides and as the tide rushes in, bringing with it, a reality I’d sooner rather not have to face, it comes nevertheless, ignorant of my wishes and empty pleas. Seemingly the choices have been made and no other options avail themselves to these eyes, crimson with tears unable to fall.  In some cruel twist of fate I have been chosen to traverse this path before me and perilously I walk along its jaggered cobblestones, to nowhere, to somewhere?