Wakin’ Up Is Hard to Do

I wrote this poem (and this one) the day before Spirit entered me. I think that’s interesting.


Changes need to get made.

This bed I laid in

Is disintegrating under the weight of time.

Made-up mind:

I will walk no further into this darkness sublime.

Opened eyes

Drink this world full of worlds, their bitter irony.

Medicine tastes like poison, poison tastes like honey.

Waking up is hard to do, and getting up, well.

Guess I’ll push my spade and grimace in this sunlit hell

(Another day, another delusion

To hack through the confusion)

And sleep my way through wakefulness,

Sleeves rolled up and focused,

Undreaming, grim and conscious,

Sharply coiffed and well groomed.

Too long, didn’t read?

This should get you up to speed:

A man ripped from the womb

A little too late, a little too soon

Sets fire to Elysium

And walks out of his bedroom.


One thought on “Wakin’ Up Is Hard to Do

  1. Pingback: I Ain’t No Good Man | The Cynic Testifies

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