To open your eyes to the sun of ole morning.
Strapping your boots, laces tight
forming thoughts for work, but mind-warring
Finding fights in the depths.
With a big breath, hope to not succumb to death...

From the *** tater and those who pit patter
Something might be awaiting after.
But you check your phone for something new,
nothing, get up and make some sanka to brew.

Work coming to a halt, try to find an end-all-be-all
On your way back, some items on sale, zesty
Grab some tickets, scratch that off the list
Bet on some games, hoping you get the jist.
You take a seat in your chair, quite aware
Was diligent, switch the tv channels only to skip it
A.c. is out, grab a brush and find what to do with the space, tempting
A deep breath to fill your lungs with air, empty