willing myself to get up
dragging my *** to the kitchen
and washing yesterday from the
coffee cup,
making a brew,
wondering
what the hell am I doing?

hey!
who knew in the dim and distant
that this, today, is what we would
call existence?

powering through the abstract
i try to make a contract with
the coming of the dawn
and
slipping from the darkness
feels as if I'm being born,

but I've seen this place before
albeit from afar
as if I was an extra in some
second rate
film noir.