I woke up in a sunday night.
To open my eyes during wednesday afternoon leisure.
It felt like I was under pressure.

Kicked the wooden bookcase.
An expectation for a book to fall,
or should the bookcase pay the toll.

Taking the bet increases my dopamine.
I picked the bet depending on the cost.
Now the bookcase is broken and I gotta make a toast.

Had a feast on one I've tried once or twice.
Became a dintant memory, refreshed, refilled, revealed.
Got the pages turned so that there is a new cover instilled.

The choice chased me, through the changes.
The memory fazed through the ages.
Betting today where tomorrow straightly gazes.