I revive myself from an idyllic slumber
Into blinding light I am born again
Indecently brought back to my senses
I prop myself up and brush away the cobwebs
My dreams disperse like smoke from an expired candle
The dream journal gathers dust on the night stand.
Each day I’m drawn closer to mortality
Only to survive the small deaths each night
To awaken and coax myself into yet another day
The flesh resists while the head argues motivation
And I get up regardless-it’s morning.
Artwork by: Karen guyette, follow her on G+.