I N S O M E D A Y S

I N S O M E D A Y S

In some days
I do write words
presented with numbers
joints of joy and peace
trespassing and pleading

In some days
I do write words
letting emotions prevail
as the cord strangled  
levelling and curling

In some days
I do write words
of a deep reflective past
and a sickening existence
passing days, pressing mazes

In some days
I do write words
but letters slipped away
lost beyond my grip
reaching and fetching

In Some days
I do write words
then shoved them away
uncased under the bed
searching and vexing

In some days
I do write words
as a moniker hiding phases
a face on my lost arms
materialising, internalising

But today, I don't want to hide
neither compartmentalises
nor capitalise on the future
'Cos It's all the now, the new me.