Before 5am,
I rise,
Or….
my body does,
My brain refuses.
Waked up-ish,
My eyes are still to heavy to lift
For more than thirty
seconds at a time.
An hour after entering the bathroom
I pulled myself into the kitchen,
Head swaying when thought swallowed me,
Back into semi-dreaming.
Energy didn’t burst through me,
It dribbled,
it dripped,
it meandered,
Even as I am awake enough to report,
I am also now awake enough
To appreciate the grace given by a Sunday morning.
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Published by sickybeat
I am a writer with an extremely active imagination. I love learning answers to questions and what makes everything and everyone tick. I am a "Unique case, medically" if nothing else. I am flawed in my extreme aversion to failure (even when "success" isn't good for me,) but have come a long way in ditching the perfectionist mindset. I like people whose default setting toward others is compassion, an open mind, and honesty
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SickyBeat 