I Feel Mundane
I feel mundane.
My body is bored and my mind is cold.
Every thought is dry, every action stale.
The clothes on my back, drapped over my starving frame, provide coverage; not warmth or softness; just the manditory and nothing more.
Both shoes on my feet have weakly solid soles.
The pen in my hand knows it belongs there.
Letters curve and bend from the ink in the tip.
Words are flowing from my mind.
Everyday, words are flowing through my thoughts, questions and mind.