Wake With the Sun

I try to wake with the sun. 

I hear it’s spiritual, connects you to the Earth. 

I’ll read and drink coffee that should be tea. 

I’ll be hyper-aware of my neighbours’ gaze; they get up early for all the real reasons:

work, old age, superiority. 

And shouldn’t I be drinking tea? 

And now I’m angry. 

The sun feels nice, I won’t deny the sun does, and looks nice. 

But I consider the only motorcycle on the block ripping the air at 730 and think the driver a shithead. 

A shower and and two eggs. Yoga that I’m probably fucking up. 

And I’m spent. What the fuck is the rest of the day for? 

no company no inspiration no companion–where do I go from this? 

I’m lonely for when I was asleep and dreaming. tired of a day that hasn’t cleared the trees. 



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