Antithesis

Sometimes it's an ant
sometimes an army of them
slowly stealing my time

Sometimes it's a mouse
I guess
it comes and takes a bite of my soul
then runs away and hides
until it comes back
back for more

But inertia is the worst
the static couch
floating on the carpet
the lonely table and chair
at the empty cafe

It's when the stroke prone clock decides to stop
serving me more than just a few minutes
more than a box full of memories
where I store your face and your voice and moments
and years and months and words
and it suddenly rushes in
all of it
in the machine gun of reproaches
in the hanging rope of regret

Now the discolored brick wall
the stained window pane
the squeaky desk drawers
and the monotonous routine
slowly gather around me
and I suffocate
wondering if I really tried my best
if everything that happened was meant
or if it was simply all my fault

Sometimes it's an ant
sometimes an army of them

slowly tearing me apart