the cold light of morning tends to shine upon you things we don’t want to see

the loss of the day before

the wreckage we stumble away from seems so much worse as the muscle ache sets in and the adrenaline wears off

the snapshots in our mind, a jumble of blurring colors, all seems out of focus

like vaseline on the lens that smooths out the rough edges

but that light shining down shows every nook and cranny in high definition

makes what could have been just another made up story to scare children a new facet of reality

yesterday was a day for false hope being stripped naked and run from town

for another corpse hanging in the wind

the hawks were just buzzards circling, waiting to feast

the constant drip of tears should have formed stalagmites by my feet at this point

the calcified remains of a better life

my friend is gone, my love an illusion, my being a non sequitur

and still i wake and here the birds sing their happy little song

all i have are questions

smooth around the edges