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City of Days

Poetry By: Dino

The days just keep stacking up

Submitted:Feb 5, 2009    Reads: 131    Comments: 4    Likes: 1   

it isnt easy to look at the bare walls

looking back at you

so you force yourself

to sleep

and when you wake

in the morning

the walls are still empty

and it isnt easy


you have a day.

so the next night

when you try to sleep

it isnt easy

so you use your day as a


and it is easier.

when you wake up

there's no breakfast

and no lunch

and no dinner and no bed

just walls walls walls

but you have another day.

so you stack your new day on your other day

and you sit on them and think.

this is the way it goes

a day here

a day there.

before you know it

you are atop a

tower of days

looking at a group of towers

of days.

and the walls become meaningless

because they exist outside

of your days

that fill every hole and every


you breathe days

and sleep days

and when you are hungry

you eat days and they

make you stronger, harder

some taste like regret

but all of them

fill your

empty stomach.


all you can see is days

in stacks and in towers

and they block out everything else

like fear and

love and

hurt and


they keep you safe and kill you these


and it's comfortable and scary

and senseless and sorry

and you run and run

in your

city of days

until your legs can handle anything

and your heart can go

for months without fuel

and you function

coldly and efficiently

and you are hard

and weathered smooth

like the rocks in the river.

and sometimes

you cant help but long

for your days to vanish

so you could weep again

like lovers

and feel that pain

and fear

that killed you and let you know that you were

really alive

and not just some

faceless forgotten animal

acting and reacting

purely on instinct

a freak.

and the days pile and pile

and it never slows down

or speeds up

or ends.

towers of days become

rubble of days

and new towers

rise in there place

and you die all the time

in your city

but the days dont care

because they do not exist

for you

but you

for them.

and finally

when your toil is done

and you find the

only exit

the city becomes a


a silent monument

of days

signifying nothing

and explaining


that no one

will ever



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