When you wake and think it's Monday night, then you look again, it's getting lighter, it seems that dream was just a noose that's twisting tighter around your neck.

She gives me a peck, is this what I have become?
a crumb for her to nibble on.

I persevere
shower and shave,
I will forever be
a slave to coffee,
tea
is not me
not
on a Monday
not
when I wake and then think
that it's done
only to realise
Monday
has not yet begun.