Good Mourning
The white hot light of day abruptly tears me from my dreams...
Like troops dispersing an unruly crowd...
Violently removing my sleepy shroud...
Rigid yet magnanimous reality forcing my eyes open to the humid, ugly day...
I stumble barefoot out onto the dew-drenched grass...
Coherent thought seeping through merely to harass...
My obese friend worry, runs and jumps on my chest...
"You've gotten heavier since yesterday", I said in muffled protest...
I begrudgingly pick the fond sleep from my eyes, and turn to face my day...
I look forward to my sweet night, and my dreams made of paper-mache...
Copyright © Darrell Hoover | Year Posted 2015
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