Requiem For A Thursday Morning

My dreams are arrested by vulgar morning
Shaking its ass in my face like a two dollar whore
Head and heart pounding, I try to fathom the violation that has just occurred
Breathlessly screaming my way into dawn’s first light
Have I been born, yet again, from Mother’s womb?
Or come to life within my own tomb?
What fresh Hell is this?!?
Minutes pass and both eyes open
I reluctantly accept the truth of a new day
My breathing slows
My heart stops pounding
For it’s only morning
Where’s my coffee?!?

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