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The Price You Pay To Be Alive | May 21, 2017

Bright shards scrape down the dawn wall
Splintering eyelids that seek only dark peace,
Soft sleep shaken neath its brittle pond,
Its broken surface slicing the skin
As you rise into stark reality’s cold air
That again you attempt to withhold.

Try again to dive below and swim away
Try, try again to ignore the body’s fresh aches
And the mind’s urgent thrashing
Flaying, until dead, cowering subconsciousness
As it releases its clinging, hurting tentacles.
Now you are fresh vomit, free until day crashes.

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Posted in Poetry
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