Morning comes like a whisper
Soft as dust settling on forgotten things
The alarm rings
But it’s just another song in a dream
That fades too quickly
Eyes blink open to the blur of daylight
Too bright
Too late
The hours have slipped again
Silent thieves stealing time
While the world moves on
Without a knock at the door
Work waits
But so does the pull of nothingness
The stillness that presses down
Shoes sit by the door
Untouched
The clock laughs in the background
Another day
Another page turned
Without the plot moving forward

What was the plan again?
A commute?
A deadline?
Or was it just the weight of expectation
Too heavy to pick up this time?
The sun arcs
The afternoon stretches out its limbs
Yawning as though the world itself
Forgets its purpose
And so do these hands
So do these feet
Which have forgotten where to go

The desk waits in a far-off place
Its papers like neglected prayers
Whispering for attention
But the body stays here
Still tethered to an anchor of inertia
Another day slides past
With nothing accomplished
Nothing destroyed
Just a soft erasure
Of what could’ve been
But wasn’t