May 4, 2024Poem
The bed is empty
naturemusictimelovemortalitysolitude
The bed is empty
Days begin with a stumble
Realisation is a gun to the head
Before coffee
Kickstarts the blood rush
Caffeine, a substitute
For companionship
Shadows on the floor
Dance with expectation
Of recognition
And dissolve with the rising
Of a tired sun
A shot to the heart
When it breaks through
No matter how dire the dream
The bitter taste of morning
On my tongue
Is a cold spell
Daylight, a sorry reminder
Of progression
A slide into darkening
A fall into silence
When the turn of a page
Is a whipcrack
A dagger to the heart
The art of living
A problem harder to solve
Than Collatz conjecture
And the day is done before
The bed is cold.