It comes in the morning, now -
That heavy vapor of gloom
That spreads like water-soaked ink
That stirs the gut to quiver.
Once a night traveler
Content to sit on my lungs
and whisper toxic reminders
of mortality,
This demon endemic to life
has taken a new schedule,
and with it, a new voice,
and new pairs of woes and clothes.
It reminds me, now,
of my world like molasses,
jolly people I have been,
and joy I've destroyed,
tempting me with a heart of ice
I could use to replace my own,
and make this song go away.
It is my job then, to refuse.
"No."
I must climb out of bed
And wield a sword of summer
For one more day.