as i stumbled
from a bed
that serves no
other purpose
than that of
dream prison
or perpetual
motion machine
unable to find
any comfort or
a moments peace
the sun shined
a golden glow
the birds hopped
perhaps excited
to see the fool
a hopefulness
bathing the land
and i cracked
open the door
let the light
and the simple song
wash over me in a
joyous sacrament
a celebration of
a brand new week
before promptly
screaming for
the birds and sun
to fuck on off
the sun stared
fat and baleful
the insipid birds
trilling mindlessly
i closed the blinds
to sit angrily
as car engines woke
and the world
ignoring my demands
continued to spin
what use is light
if there is nothing
to illuminate
but an idiot alone
scribbling verse
no songs of colored
strings and nests
can calm the fires
raging through
agonies inflicted
upon this poorly
constructed meat suit
Wow! That’s a real hate on Monday! Love the turn, Mike! It caught me off guard and made the poem’s feeling to me that much stronger!
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i think both sides of my bed are the wrong one and I am constantly waking up. thank you for the kind words, my friend
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