the birds in the bush are stuck in a loop, a glitch in the program that runs the simulation

normally they trill a happy little song, this morning it sounds like a skipping record

i look for other signs the world is devolving, stay away from the news though, too depressing

the world won’t end with a bang, but with a whimper, a final feeble gasp before the skies turn red

exhaustion hit me like a truck, yet at no point did my mind raise the white flag of total surrender

it clung with bloody fingers to the edge of screaming all through the night, shocking me awake

the deeper the dream the harsher the reality, the more terrible the sights the worse the wakening

an empty bed, a bird on repeat, faint sickly yellow light streaming in through the cracks to my head

this damned headache, this non-stop smorgasbord of agony, all culminating into life

how wretched it all feels in the morning, dismay tainting the every brush stroke of paint

yet the birds are stuck in a loop in the bush outside, new voices adding to the sonic alarm