Every morning, right at dawn
this happens before I even yawn.
Day after day, day after day,
before I even wake,
before light with my eyes I take,
the same way it goes.
Over and over and over again…
It starts with this sudden rash on my skin,
like when someone is bothered with some very deep sin.
I taste of something unpleasent, sour.
If I spit it, steel I think I’d devour.
All stiff and sore,
I get up, unwillingly I’m mumbling something gore.
I look myself in the mirror,
sheet after sheet, it just gets thicker.
My eyes ****** and black,
inside them I see, a dent, a small crack.
Day after day, day after day,
while everyone sleeps,
I pity that soul that down in the crack slowly weeps.
I watch as it gets wider and wider,
that *****, that empty hollow ditch.
I see away, try to hide the disgust.
There is no place left in me, where I’d put my own trust.
There’s no border more, between reason and lust.
It was taken by some passing windy gust,
some swarmy pile of useless dust.
Vigorously I feel fire building up in me.
Hell got upstairs again, in me I see.
It burns I can feel it,
that unscratchable itch.
I stay still, I don’t move,
only with my left cheek I twitch.
