laundry day

looks like

it’s that time again

to fold away your dirty laundry

this weeks failures

embarrassment and regret

looks like

it’s that feeling again

to wrestle with bad thoughts

tap your hand on the mat

today we call a loss

your teletherapist is waiting

in the zoom room

maybe she’ll help you be

ten times your current size

and then you can smile

and finally sleep

-

sundays are for mourning

all the people you wish

you could be

all the things on your to-do list

left hanging there on your fridge

sometimes it feels like

everyone else got the upgrade

they were leveled up

to meal prepping

and laundry doing

and bill paying

and alarm setting

and here you are sitting

in a small patch of sunlight

shining sideways

through the dirty window

-

you wonder who decided

somewhere down the line

that even on this day of rest

we are all expected

to politely decline

we are slaves to a higher power

productivity bred in our bones

we are made without an off button

and you’re so tired

you’d rather suffer silently

live imperfectly

all alone

-

so your bed stays unmade

and your hair unkept

and if no one can see you

it’s okay to make a mess

what good is a routine

if it routinely reminds you

that this is your life now

a never ending to-do list

checking life off like a task

we are all too busy to notice

flowers blooming all around us

the sun sets different every night

watercolor skies begging to be seen

insects singing just for us

a million symphonies right outside

crying for our attention,

while we swiffer the kitchen floor.