Monotony

Blinking, opening eyes
to the same old fading cream walls and white ceiling and the old fan with blades gathering dust
hours past the dawn
with tired eyes and scrambled thoughts -
thoughts like changing frequencies of a radio
hopping from that song, to that person, to nightmares last dreamt,
to the misty realisation of yet another day
to be lived through - survived again.

Mustering might to get up, on feet
to repeat regular rituals
with the happiest, upbeat tunes that could be found
To delaying a solitary meal, as much as I could
the drudgery of it
and the dreaded stillness thereafter,
ignoring the pile of books meant to be read besides me.

The stillness breaks not before noon
joined by familiar faces,
I'm conscious of my voice, the sound of my laughter
I wish it'd stay.

That half hearted tryst with newspaper, 
I find myself wandering to places far
in time and space
when the things were better, when they were worse -
the past, the present and the imagined.
I take up fiction, tracing the lanes of a different world, losing my way
Not without getting sucked into the nothingness of reality from time to time
The uneventful nothingness of now
and the fear of its continuity
and it's overwhelming presence accompanies me to bed,
where I tenaciously wait for words to take it away
or tears to wash it down - 
None. 
None gives me clarity as I slowly give in to the desired unconsciousness of sleep
knowing of a tomorrow
that has to be lived through, 
survived again.