I'm waking up
as the sun is coming out
and I feel like saying
to hell with this,
I'm going back to sleep.

I'm having thoughts of
getting a job
and finishing this music
and writing poetry
and doing something worthwhile with my life.

be it as it may, these thoughts surge in me,
they electrify my will.
and I ask myself: how can I deny this motivation?
how can I withdraw from the grasp of my debasement?
how?

oh, muse, you are a tormenting motivator -
to take my soul in your hands,
to bring out in me the dignity and the humanity,
to cleanse the vanity and ignite the creativity...
and this could be a dream.

yes, a dream brought forth from my better mind,
breaking away from this alcohol abuse,
scratching and suffocating
from under the surface
of myself.

I could murder myself and hate myself and amuse myself
and think these thoughts of being cruel,
when so close as it is, outside this glass window I can see the morning sun
rising in pink streaks of light against the clouds,
and a peace of mind could be so reachable, to tease me -
it could trick me.

and then now, to roll my naked body over,
letting the sunlight color the room,
all of it a burning fondness, and to some extent piercing,
to realize that I am pitiful in the dark
wrapped here in desperate blankets,

and holding in my mind, just for a few more minutes:
this light is not so bad.