Wednesday, January 15, 2003

One of those days you

One of those days
you can predict
before the floorboards freeze your feet
before you try to make a sound
even as you lie in state
exactly as you laid asleep
One of those days you’d rather not have
throat dry and scratchy, uvula
incensed, ears plugged and throbbing
as you rise, your head is not your own -
it soars above your shaky body, plummets
down into a murky sea of
insubordinate unthinking
showerwater burns your skin
and all you think is, I can feel it
food, the breaking of the fast,
is no enticement, nor does vigor
creep into your soles while walking
through the stale morning streets
and you begin to realize
it’s not just you, the world is ill
you have unpleasant conversations
telling people ugly truths
and they return the favor, as
your gorge and rage creep up your throat
takes all your strength to sit and act
like you are showing some respect
your vision blurs, your eyeballs shudder
folk materialize before you
posing thoughtless queries, shredding
work you thought you put to bed
engaging you in pointless chat
against which you rebel in silence
frozen, boiling, ossified
they look at you expecting answers
all you want to do is sleep
or lie awake on sweaty sheets
those moments to which you looked forward
falter, fold, decay before you
ere you see that they’ve begun
the kind of day that never ends
you know it prior to arising
yet you must get up out of bed
and try to salvage just a moment
knowing better than to hope
no friendly words will pave your path
or ease your burden
one more snooze will make no difference
time to go and meet my fate
live out the doom that looms before me
wait for better days to come
assuming that the world endures
so I arise.  The day begins.