The twin pockets of love and money.
You wake up and there they are:
one far away and perhaps impossible,
the other merely nonexistent and empty.
You dreamt of an old friend cut in half
by an unlucky burst of machine gun fire.
You wake up angry, lethal and mean.
You want to strangle the world
or whoever you happen to meet first.
Unless you wish jail, ruin, or the chair
this is a good time to simply disappear.
You need to hide away from the world
until your rage subsides and calm returns.
Like Grendel, you must slink back into your den
and let the blood-lust dissipate.
If you don't, someone is going to die.
And it will probably be me.