Take a Picture - Filter

This whole household in suburbia is getting rather irritating. I don't mind most of it, but mowing the lawn has never been a chore I remotely enjoyed. Every time I do it, I reflect at least a dozen times on what a useless and inane task it truly is. My brother even wrote a haiku about it in sixth grade.

The dynamics of relativity are again becoming clear to me. School begins in nine days. I don't want school to begin in nine days. It's some consolation that I'll have regular access to Panda Express, but even good eats aren't enough to placate my animosity. Maybe my classes will actually be interesting this time around. I'm personally betting on Financial Mathematics to be the semester's savoir.

The charges are set, each one placed with great care and consideration. The countdown began with the blade of a wooden sword. Now, all I can do is stand before the wall, the smooth stones of the dry riverbed beneath my feet, waiting. This was my decision, and I will not back down. I'm sick of patching leaks, hoping no-one witnesses the stain of tears flowing over the cold grey surface. I'm sick of broken outflow regulators and stagnating waters.

This drought is leaving me
With cracked soil and brown leaves.
Floating on a dry lake bed
With a dry mouth and a foggy head,
Waiting for the snow.

When the water comes,
I will overflow.
I will overflow.