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Day's Existence (poem)


Day's Existence

(age 17)

My toes dance to the tick of the clock.

Sweetness slips away like the moon’s glow.

I hate the taste of reluctance in the morning.

I hate how I can’t pull myself together quick enough

to disguise the vulnerability of Sleep’s miracles,

its mindless chatter & abstract images

that keep my brain functioning without true consciousness.

I hate the fowl breath of Life as I arise from slumber,

that hideous intoxication of a new day, a glorious

sunrise that shakes the birds from their perches.

My ears tingle as I tune into the sounds of Reality.

One eye open, everything soon sharpens into focus.

I always hope that this will be gone when eyes open,

but everything’s still there, still the same.

Ahh, how I despise this taste of reluctance!

How I long for a new day that is not a Day at all!

I twitch a little. But only a little. Maybe Reality has improved.

Or maybe I’m still asleep, & Day itself no longer exists.


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