the world is gray, my arms crave you

feel too
ugly
to write
pretty
today.

the coffee
doesn’t work.

my head
is stuffed
with fire ants.

the birds
are
stuck
in a constant
three note
regression.

like me.

i woke
whispered
my love
to the aether
as the
sun
slept
above a
blanket
of gray.

i am tired
of feeling
so very much
tired
facing the faceless
morning
in mourning
for the sleep
that got away.

i am ugly
today
uglier
anyway
with the birds
screaming out
as the sun
still sleeps.

as the chatter
fills the quiet
as my heart
sputters
and as my mind
slowly
falls apart.

the coffee
isn’t working.

the sun
isn’t shining.

and i
have no clue
how to salvage
a day
that has yet
to begin.

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