Vaguely

Vaguely the morning descends on my head's heavy boulder, stabbing the night away, like a rude intruder, and vaguely, I stare in the mirror at the stranger staring at me. You were once a familiar face and we shall have friendly chat again, whenever you feel lonely and depressed. Of the noise outside, I have no clue, there's probably a preacher pretending we're civilized. I would be late for work now if I had a job and worried about the next pay check. Vaguely I remember the good old days, when we burnt half those checks in happy hours, and the handsome tips I left behind. Now I live on memory alone. Vaguely I shake my head for a nod to life and being here now without despair. I am vaguely aware of death lurking outside the window, counting my days ahead, like a patient highway patrol bored with inaction. Crap, move to the side and show me your double, need someone to talk straight, without an accent, a certified copy. And where is the damn matches to light this cigarette? I must do something meaningful with my life, without any delay, before it is too late, for what? Vaguely I ask myself, knowing time is not on my side, only under my feet, like a suffocating crocodile that once groped my jaw and then spitted me away as too tasteless.