The rising sun
is already glaring down
from high above the horizon
by the time I get up

Bleary-eyed and squinting
at the light pouring through
in violent spears
through opened shades.

My bed sheets,
rank and stale
with damp sweat,
cling to my skin,
my face and curled hair
that hangs in greasy tendrils,

and I rise from that foul lair
grudgingly.

**** this day.