Feeling kind of strange,
Eyes refusing to open,
Let's smile, let the sunshine in
Reaching for my phone,
The numerals make no sense,
An unholy mess,
I'm late, and I don't want to.
Rolling over, half undressed,
Skin exposed in the morning light,
A fashion parade of dead mornings.
Slowly opening the door,
Blocking the sun with my raised hand.
A harshly luminous existence.
Stopping, grabbing a bite to eat,
Devouring morsels to a traffic musical.
This is the peace of every morning.
Promptly, the vehicle arrives,
To transport me to productivity.
Faster I chug along, for another nine hours.
Another day, another life.
Another wondering, why. Oh, why?
Time to rest.
Go to bed.
You need tomorrow to forget about today.