Every morning
As the Alarm clock
Slowly brings
The classical music Station on
And I wake from
Vivid dreams
Of places I have never been
Nor seen
I drink my coffee and await
My daily dispensation
My script
My Medication
To help fight my Illnesses
Allegedly at least
That's what the medical
People say
And I never argue
I don't know how
But the walk
The walk to the chemists
It humiliates me
Makes me feel like a criminal
Or a junkie in need of a fix
A poacher in search of a doe
The walk in rain and shine
It lessens me
Step by step
Until I recieve
My daily dispensation
And I walk those same steps back
On old, old streets, with people
In early morning fluster
Creating a new day
While mine as a hopless case
is ending
In a roundabout way
And I bring my daily dispensation
Home, and what happens then?
All I know is that my hands stop
Shivering
And I am able to stand up
And feel as a living person
Every day,
It is a tiresome thing
Had I known
Such pain was possible
I should think
I would have stayed in
The womb