Someone is Screaming in the Living Room

It feels late, but that’s only because the sky is grey.
The clouds are the hint of blue, deep mixed with grey
flowing by as quickly as clouds are apt to.

The window is closed again. It has to be;
the sky threatens so, waiting for a moment to come and change things.
Or is that what I wait for?
I shut myself up here in the sepulcher and claim
studious intents.
I show proof of them and have people smile at my amibitions
but I am afraid that I am just running away
                                                                              from me.
But then I have so much blind unbriddled hope
that I both mourn and look forward to the next minute of my existence.
I am terrified of the progression of this dirge I hear
ripping itself from the dusty throat of the matron in the back.

Still I have the pause to consider a few things; I just don’t want to think about them.
I am so tired of looking and analyzing
and so tired of running back and forth
going places I do not care to go to.

I just want to stop, alone in the street, and walk slowly to my destination.
The whole world can keep going, but I-

I just want to lay this creature down for awhile
                                                                                    and rest the weary bones from their daily grind and snap.