Sunday, A boy, that is smart kind but rather angry about school the next day

Monday, A little girl excited to learn the true glorious and magical wonders of the world

Tuesday, Someone with brains and power that people admire and mostly enjoy

Wednesday, A boy like a fork in the river or girl like a girl that reminds you of the middle of a geo

Thursday, A tired parent waiting to go to bed

Friday, A joyous kindergardener at the end of another school week and excited about their first sleepover

Saturday, A tired teenager in bed at 3:30

Sunday is just there--always there. He doesn't bring much to the table, and all he can do is remind me that I have to go back to work the next day.

Monday is a bitch. All she can do is complain and throw one tantrum after another. I leave her feeling completely exhausted.

Tuesday is forgettable. After dealing with Monday, we both just try to get through everything without being noticed.

Wednesday is constantly busy. She considers how little got done at work the previous two days, and feels the need to overwork herself.

Thursday is like a breath of fresh air. We both feel gleeful that we're nearing the end of the work week, and are just excited to get home with some ice cream and watch Grey's Anatomy.

Friday is just lazy. All he does is sit there and let everyone praise him without actually accomplishing anything or contributing to anything. Despite his laziness, everyone seems to love him and look forward to his arrival.

For me, though, Saturday is the best, though slightly unpredictable. We sometimes spend all of our day doing homework and then looking at the clock only to wonder where the day went. Other times we're sitting on the couch until sunset watching pointless television and gorging on anything we can get our hands on. Still, other times, we just go outside and enjoy the sunshine. Saturday is my best friend. I think I'll marry him one day, if he'll stop leaving me for Sunday, who is just there--always there.

To a King a son was born on each of the seven days known to man. The King was pleased at the orderliness of this, and though his seven wives would leave him no peace as they all sought favour, he decreed that seven sons in seven days would never be bettered.

It was therefore ordered that all people joined in marriage be forbade more than seven sons in seven days, and the Kings Herald made journey to the kingdoms seven regions, to ensure this law be known.

The Kings firstborn was born of much beauty and was named Sunday as was such the day of his birth, and he grew tall and fair and was of most peaceful and pleasant bearing.

The second in succession was born and named thus Monday, and grew to unfortunate character, being of slovenly appearance and idle of disposition. He spent his days in lazy pursuits and grew obese and ill.

The Kings third son was so named Tuesday and was a lover of books and writing, as he was of a studious and philosophical mind, and would spend his days lost in the Palace Library.

The Kings favourite son was Prince Wednesday, a handsome faced adventurous lad with an eye for the ladies. The King looked favourably upon this son, as he saw himself as a youth, in the lads spirit.

On Thursday was born the Kings fifth in line to the Throne and was named accordingly. Thursday grew into a villainous and spiteful youth, and all the courtiers became wary to avoid his evil gaze.

Friday was born to much rejoicing, with blue eyes and a ravenous appetite, Friday was favourite with all the maidens of the Kingdom being of poetic and lyrical personality, and grew to spread joy and happiness wherever he went.

The Kings final son was born at exactly midday on a Saturday, and was named thus. Saturday grew into a fighting man and as such was fitted with hand wrought armour and was made Head of the Royal Guard.

The whole Kingdom would celebrate each day in succession, save for Monday and Thursday, as these days were considered of ill omen, and no business took place on these days for fear of bad tidings.

Sunday:

She is graceful

She wears pearls and a dress

She speaks softly

However so, she is dreaded

Monday:

He is late to work

He complains too much

Not many people like him

Tuesday:

He goes by unseen

He is not liked or disliked

He is invisible

Wednesday:

She is outgoing

She tries to catch the stars with her bare hands

She has the wildest dreams

Thursday:

He is unsure of his future

Yet he is always peaceful

Friday:

She is ready to dominate the world

She has a martini in her hand

And she has a gun in her purse

She will not stop for anybody

Saturday:

She is tired

She is hopeful

She is welcomed

Sunday is bashful. He does not talk much and is extremely brainy, always focusing and staying present.

Monday is dreary. Sad and miserable. Always pestering and nagging people, an annoying creation.

Tuesday is beautiful. Smelling of peonies and peppermint, and dressing in fine silks. Very selfish.

Wednesday is sweet like a cupcake.

Easy going and smart. A lovely heart he has.

Thursday is athletic. Sporty and active. Always on his feet and lyrical at basketball.

Friday is proud, almost too proud sometimes- but powerful and great, like a smile. A good one.

Saturday is the peacemaker. He is calm and quiet, but kind and bright inside-even though he's a little shy.

i.

she is choking on

the cross around her neck

there's a heaviness on her chest

she can't control

she is too young for heart attacks

but she can feel her soul stop beating

ii.

the bags under her eyes weigh more than she can carry. her throat feels like it's been swallowing deserts. her smile is worn-out like the soles of her shoes, but i do not ask why. i do not ask her for a single thing, even though i know she'd give me all she's got. her eyes are the ashes of a wildfire, drooping like the crushed cigarette butt lying on the pavement. she says she is tired and sick of herself. she says she is deader than everyone else.

iii.

his eyes are full

of hope

and he almost makes

me believe it

when he says

one day

we will

shine brighter

iv.

but i see god with one eye

and reality with the other

i am halfway between becoming

poetry

and

chaos

v.

they're a run-on sentence scared of being left behind so they never stop to take a breath and they're not an atheist but they worship death because tomorrow is always too far away even when they wake up to a brand new day there is nothing to look forward to but sleep and their breath finally fades out but the demons in their head keep

vi.

he walks like god

and the world bows down before him

he is closer to omega

than you think

vii.

she skips lightly upon the earth

turning cracked pavement into fields of daisies

her smile is made up of the finest things-

crescent moons and cherry trees

bluebirds and honeybees

her soul mimics the robins and sings

I had 10 men kidnap me in my sleep out of my home in San Francisco. 9 of them tied me up and the other drove. They all wore all white uniforms with gas masks. They had 8 rooms to put me in, but I could hear the agonizing screaming of women in the other 7 of them. Then there were 6 types of knives they laid out in front of me once they threw me down. The floor was hard brick, the whole room was cold, empty.. with 5 inch bars on top of the pebble, granite door.. there was no light. 4 of these men came in everyday to give me shots and evaluate me, writing down everything they could on a clip board, murmuring about what drugs to use. They would only give me 3 pieces of bread throughout the day and 2 glasses of water. There was only 1 prisoner in that hole, me, and I had 0 chances of living.

She wanted me to break it, a porcelain ruby vase I brought her. We stood on top of a building together, at the edge. The emotions were high and she had eyes that were all cried out. As her man, her only friend, I thought that I was doing everything right. Turns out, I was doing everything all wrong. I thought that by looking into her eyes every morning and telling her she was beautiful it would soothe all the open wounds from before.

Before she began to grow crazy... crazy from a broken heart. All the aches, the problems, the past. I thought it would all mend if I caressed her head and made her feel beautiful. I guess not. I guess all that it did was make her insecure. She thought that I would leave her at any moment, I would disappear and never return. She thought that I was everyone else. She thought that I wasn't anything. No matter how much I tried to convince her otherwise the aches were still there, she was still tarnished.

I was there, with the ruby porcelain vase trying make her see the beauty. See how beautiful she was in the reflection. Trying to make everything normal again. All that she could do was weep aloud even more when she saw herself. When she saw how depressed she looked, how drained, how empty her spirit was.

I tried everything that I could and now it was over. If I threw this vase over the edge then everything would be over.

I gave it to her on our second date. The second date was months apart from the first. It was months a part due to my inability to stay. I thought that she was so beautiful that I couldn't do anything but to leave her. I left her there all alone. On the second date, I gave her the vase with roses and promised I would never leave. I promised that I would do anything to make us last. I kept my promised so far. I know, I know that if I through this vase she will scream. She will panic with fury because it's thickness in the air. I know she will feel like that I have failed her. So I continue to hold it, dangling over all of NY.

"Do it. You stupid, Bastard! Do it!" she yells at me.

I dropped it.

She wanted me to break it, all the work I’ve put my time in to. My heart shattered to a million pieces, I wiped the sweat off my brow, leaving trails of wet paint from my hand that remained.

“I’m not going to.” I spoke with struggle.

She swung her hand back, forcefully bringing it down to my face, leaving a red mark.

“I know it isn’t me, Elliott. She’s long gone, and dead!”

Tears fell from my eyes, I couldn’t bear to hear those words. I’ve lived a life where she’s never gone. The bed isn’t empty, I hear the sweetest sounds of her voice as she sings me to sleep.

I wake up, her arms are no longer as she’s around me.

“She never did, she’s alive and well.”

I know, in another universe, she is.

And never died in the fire.

Sunday is such a goody-two shoes. Acting all high and mighty with her holier than thou attitude.

Monday is a relentless bitch. Constantly nagging and putting others down.

Tuesday is Monday's sidekick, the complete drama queen. She blows everything out of proportion. Exhausting!

Wednesday is a hot mess. Need I say more?

Thursday is optimistic always looking forward to what tomorrow brings.

Friday is a happy go lucky girl. Always fun to be around.

Saturday is a wild party girl. Completely crazy. Anything goes with her.