Saturday Morning (1)

By: Patrick


My world drags
Like a bad movie.
I stare at the murky surface of a cup of green tea
For minutes on end,
Without a thought in my mind.
Yesterdays confuse and amuse.

Is about being slow,
Above all about being slow.
Silence, time, solitude,
All seem eternal,
Like the humming of a fridge.
There is no one else.
Solus ipse est.

These days are my salvation.

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