I'm really good at waking up
I can do it twenty times a night.

He cries
no gold medal for me though
just bags underneath my eyes.

Plodding on and nodding off and waking up is not enough to keep me on the straight when everything I go to
I always get there late,

he begs
operate and get that lead out of my legs and make me mercury,
I want to see how easily that I could flow, go underneath the infrastructure, but you know and I do that they ****** you, put you in the system grinder,

do I remind you of a holiday you took?

well do I?

look,
it's only seaside blue when you open up your eyes to look inside of you and see that life's not mystery, not a book you read or blood you bleed

just
something that you do to keep the story going and when you're gone?

waking up is easy and I get better every day

Banjaxed seems like  the right word to use after a day of grafting,
I must be going soft in the head to labour as I do.

knackered, dog tired and not wanting to be wired to the grid
I rid myself of id, ego, ergo I am free,
well, hopefully,
but
we shall see.

This is where I should be
in twenty twenty-four
thinking nineteen sixty-three.

Seven years old when old was last weeks Beano,
how dandy I looked in a bow tie and shorts.

But time as we all know
is put upon this Earth
to show us
the error of our ways.

By nineteen seventy-one I was gone,
a stevedore
boldly going into the hold and knowing
that this wouldn't end well.

We get things right and we get things wrong
and going on we learn to tell the difference.

Tie yourself up in knots
and
what for?

stress
kills
slowly
but
kills
anyway,

chill out
get out
untie your soul.

Easy to say
sometimes
not so easy
to do
but you
are your own
hero
heroine,
so get going
now.

It's not Christmas but it's Saturday
which goes some way toward lifting my spirits,

At the moment which is now at that moment, I was trying to lift my legs out of bed and onto the floor, Coffee in case you were wondering is percolating or will be as soon as I can see through these tired eyes.

This is my morning ritual which doesn't involve a blood sacrifice,
open eyes,
look around
check that I'm all there
and
energise.

Postcards on the sideboard and all wishing that I was here,
then here I shall be.

She tells me
you're not and never have been here,

but I've been there
running my fingers through her hair
wondering where She'll lead me.