my first response to waking up,
is closing my eyes.
i know the potential is there
to get out of bed,
to explore the surface of the earth,
to make french toast and sausage,
to expand my vocabulary,
to clean the dirt off my skin and brush my teeth,
to make money,
to clean my bedroom,
to drive two hours down 476 to 76 to oregon ave to you,
to have fun,
to love and feel loved,
to feel fulfilled,
to be content,
happy,
excited for the next sunrise, sunset,
and the time in between;
instead i choose motionlessness.
unconsciousness.
numbness.
i choose to do nothing.
i choose to dream.
i've become immune to alarm clocks,
and the pinging sound my phone makes
when it receives a text message from
someone who wants to hang out with me.
my veins are filled with mud.
my brain and heart are dead batteries.
that i haven't figured out how to replace,
and i can't afford new ones
so i'm stuck with what i got.
stuck in this situation:
under the covers,
and shivering from an overdose
of air conditioning,
and the presence of your ghost
trying to coax me out
from under the white drywall sky,
loneliness of this room.
and into the sun.
into your warm arms.
you are loved
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