Not a Morning Person

Wake up
pissed off at nothing
hit the pillows a little
only to realize that I’m only fluffing them
and that this isn’t the explosion of anger
that I wanted to start my day with.

This is not burning things down with torches
this is enforcing more comfort
and torches brought to set fire
usually have purpose
and I have woken up with none.

That is probably the source of all this anger
that it feels that I have awoken with no purpose
and that I have nothing to do
except the basics.

So I rage in a circle
like a dog poked with a stick in a small cage
where I gnash at the bars for something to do
and look around at everything
as if it was an attacker.

Coffee will help I hope
a cigarette will help I hope.

(and then, the feeling of being a huge cliché and worse: a cliché who writes about being a cliché, comes in and ruins everything.)

I should just go back to bed
I should just accept things
I should my laundry.

What is this madness of 29?

Does it fade?
Does purpose enter?
Or have I figured it all out and now life holds no more surprises?

That’s
something to be pissed off about
thank God.

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