little bottle of charge

Some Days.

Some days I wake to find the hour has escaped me. Every plan I conceived in semi-consciousness suddenly collapses like a cardboard box left out in the rain. The fantasy of order and productivity is replaced with a slow realization of the chaos and incapability that is about to transpire. Reset. Maybe if i shut off for a few more minutes my thoughts will arrange themselves. Open one eye.
The sky is brighter still, burning away the sheets through a crack in the curtain leaving me naked.
I cant stay here.
Grab at pieces of information, lines of instruction that form a daily routine. Force myself into doing normal things. Pull on some clothes. splash water on the face. put something in a toaster but conveniently forget to eat it.
If only I could remember what happens next, I could plan for it and take action accordingly.
Stare out the window and try to comprehend what is happening. Everything appears calm but the dull bass of a million internal combustion engines reminds me that the world is turning very, very fast. Panic. Without thought I pick up a bag and walk out the door, screaming silently
WAIT FOR ME.
Lean and step before the green signal, the traffic has already stopped. They've paused while I pass in front, not out of consideration but because a red lamp told them to. walk faster.