I wake up odd.
I wake up ugly.
When I try to sleep
within the embrace of a broken world,
I wonder whether the joys of lemon meringue or acquiring real estate will ever outweigh the longing for a true, human love.
I think:
"Will any one ever wake up at all?"
I shake.
I wake up lonely.
I wake up hungry.
Some days I wake up,
already sold on a promise of what will be, based on what has been.
So inclined,
I roll over like the sun before me
and whisper to the moon:
"I'll tell you truthfully-
I never wake up anything,
except for dreaming."
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