awaiting

By
I’m awaiting the morning
I wake up, shrouded in cheap plush blankets
Saliva crusting around the corners of my mouth
The overly cheery sun will smile upon my face
Even if I’m still dripping sleep,
First thought: you’re a whore.
Just because it rolls of the tongue, aimed at no in particular
Ripping off Morrissey lyrics like a bodily function,
Then I rub my eyes, try and rub the grimy images of yesterday out
The long path stumbling blindly to my bathroom is spent
Piecing together the wreckage known as my dreams
I’m awaiting the day that they’ll make sense.
And when they’ll lead me someplace other than a mildew-riddled shower
And a toothpaste-stained sink.





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