I wake this morning still
wishing for sleep,
there is a strange hue in the air,
I find it suffocating.
I go about my day but my head is heavy,
the weight of it makes my shoulders ache
and my shins cramp.
It's strange how in this blue mood
the ocean waves don't soothe
but crash in assault
and the sand's too hot beneath my toes,
the sun seems to smirk its happiness
and the clouds too white, seem to form
shapes that smile.
Nature argues my gloominess, but I argue back,
I see not pretty shells, but sharp edges,
I see grass too wet with dew,
that'll leave stains.
People on the pavement seem to wither
on my approach,
they see it in me,
this gangrene infliction of bitterness
that offers only isolation,
and they back away with fear.
I head home counting cracks
in the pavement, and I lay my sorry
head back on a pillow,
too hard,
and pray that tomorrow
upon waking.........
its feathers don't poke through.
