sometimesihatemycat

This morning
I shuffle still
Slightly In sleep
To that steaming
Bubbling altar
Of chemical awareness
My bedtime bun
Disheveled and askew
Imbalance tugging at
My heavy head
A leaning tower
Of convenience
Craving that first sip
But in my mouth
It turns to dirt
And gritty earth
Swallowing
With aversion
To the taste
Of mineral and tin
But maybe while
I dump this out
And grind away again
Some ingested seed
Will germinate and sprout
Crowding out the nausea
Of early morning doubt

– a.r.

~ by April on September 17, 2014.

Posted in Body, Food & Wine, Identity, Poetry, Writing
Tags: Awake, Body, Coffee, confusion, Doubt, Morning, poetry, Writing