the room is filled
with tremulous beams
of ensnared moonlight
outside the day
has broken and the
sun sizzles like the
yolk of a fried egg
oozing over everything
in a heated haze of
irrefutable malaise
the pressure internal
has muted colors and
the sounds are broken
into burst of white
noise that carves itself
deeply into the brown
swirl of coffee spilled
by shaking hands in
dire need of anything
to wash away the taste
of a morning without
the succor of your lips
to banish the wisps
of broken sleep back
into the shadow dappled
corners of a circular
self imposed prison
caught in twilight
reveries as dawn licks
with sandpaper tongue
to cast the sleepiness
as another symptom of
irrationally clinging
to the impossible thought
it actually gets better
than this fleeting hell
life is a faraday cage
blocking illogical dream
triggering pain recpetors
and calling it satisfied