Again last night a truck must have come and filled my bed with cement
This morning, encased in concrete, I've woken unable to move anything but my eyelids
This is how a turtle must feel flipped upside down on his shell
Or, a mobster who has woken to find that his time has come
Coaching myself with all the lies and guilt I can muster
I jerk myself upright to a seated position on the edge of the bed
My brain chemistry and inner ear begin to send me a frenzy of static messages
As if tuned in between stations
Waking on these days has become such disappointment to my nervous system
I’ve got to sturdy myself on these legs - let them hoist me up into a standing position
Wearing nothing less than a concrete casket
Reaching for the door frame to support my first step
Let's get this day started
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