Waking Up

Unpublished pieces

Waking up. Good morning daylight. 
Stretching body and thinking of excuses. 
Excuses to run back to bed. 
To pull covers over head 
and wish everything away. 

Life begins when you decide you want to live. 
To be the image of the man you've pretended 
                                                          all along. 
To manufacture the same tired 
with the same boring people 
                       you talk with every day. 
Together you and these other people 
                           will creak with the aches 
                                                        of getting older. 
Yawn with the same minds with the 
                       same thoughts of mortality. 
And so you're 20, 30, 40, 50 or more. It 
really doesn't matter. Every killed brain cell 
screams out its resentment. Backspaced hands 
           tracing illusions on the frosted windows 
                                                      of failed ambitions. 
The cliché is true. Time is running out and 
                                         we realize that the shouting 
       we have done does not motivate anyone 
                                                    to love us with all their hearts. 
At a word, reality can shatter. Husbands and wives 
                                 can become casual strangers 
wondering why they ever fell in love. 
                    Friends can scatter about the world 
                                        and leave one painting them 
                                                        into the images of what they 
                                                                               were before. 

I'm sitting at this machine, typing furiously and 
                                  knowing that submitting to the society 
                                                      I live in will 
 require me 
to close off the thinking part of my brain. 

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