monotony

the walls close in
minute by minute
as my hands 
succumb to the monotony
of daily life

scrubbing the dried oats
brushing the crumbs off
wiping the slate clean
rinsing the stained tea

repeating
the same 
conversations
it is called a cycle for a reason

my friends are 
the pots and pans
the tea glasses
the forks and the spoons
the wiping cloth

or so they think
we all whisper to each other
they laugh and giggle
as i see them eye to nose
each day
three times at least

i cannot laugh
i am not the one being cleansed
my soul still stained 
no clean slate for me

instead, i want to break the walls down
one by one

i want to throw these friendships out
the pots, the pans, the tea glasses
the forks and the spoons

one day 
on a Wednesday night
two weeks from now
in the recycling bin 

scuttle them to the end of the driveway 
thud thud thud 
muffling their pleas
ending
these one-sided relationships