Posted in Mundane Monday
“It’s creeping up on me again, Monday!” Gun Roswell
Monday
monday!
f***ing monday!
oh, how i loath thee
you always arrive
with a substantial fee
it should be
so clear to me
but i never seem, to see
how this day
always, creeps up, on me
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Rantings Of A Third Kind 
Slam it down, next time, dear, like a stiff drink or a cold beer. Monday’s nothing if not poetic, like a window, blue with rain splattered flat on its glassy pane. It comes to clear your palette to prepare you for Tuesday jazz, and Wednesday’s misspelled weirdness and Thursday’s weary lag. I don’t know about the rest of the week; I’m usually three sheets to the wind by then. That’s why Monday’s my drab-dreary friend, where it all begins again–‘bove the chin, in the Northern region, ‘bove the eyes and brow, where you know everything you’ve come to know and you really don’t even know how.
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Monday’s can be like that. They can also be the glorious start of a new week:)
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