A typical 24

The day

I awake to the silence of my empty site,
internally listening to one of the fights.
Desperately I try to focus to begin the day,
stepping aside from the fists and knives that sway.

I get cleaned, the outside shined, and I get bright,
my mind remains a destroyed and filthy site.
Fake smiles and empty stares dawned,
anxieties pet creatures spawned.
Deep breaths taken for the strength,
needing to focus for the days length.

Throughout the stretched, stressful hours,
I use up all my willful powers.
Travel back to the emptiness of home,
to where in silence I let shadows roam.

I lay my stares and smiles next to the keys,
back to listening to fights that only I see.
Just another typical days routine,
that feels as if it has always been.

The night

Nothing ever goes wrong in a perfect song.
Nothing ever improves with a perfect groove.
The simplest of notes from the words wrote,
crumpled, thrown aside, useless is implied.
Music humbles the minds thoughts it finds,
rhythms with a blink, flowing, moving one to think.
Like a thought a beat often one repeats,
a song, a groove, a fear we keep them near.
How I spend my nights, darkened to the lights,
waiting for the dreams state and its recorded plates,
waiting for the next days routinely repeated ways.
Sleeping into the shadow burns from the toss and turns,
then awake onto the day travelling times forward way.