The day after the day after the night before.

The day after the day after the night before.

What is this state

Of indecision.

It does not bind or blind

But hovers

In constant hesitation,

And contributes

To a discontent.

A grey malaise,

An unsatisfactory status quo.

The maintenance of

An awkward nexus,

With an indistinct focal point,

Lacking decisive intent.

A slough of sensibility,

That upholds the stasis,

Despite the opportunity

To grasp life

In a different way.

When you ask

What has happened lately?

How can I know?

What is remembered

Most vividly

Is from before,

When purpose

Was more easily defined.

Little remains of that ease.

Old bones scream

After exertion.

And even pleasure

Can haunt in aftermath.

There is so much

Left to do,

I have a mind to chase it,

But the flesh

Dances to a different tune,

And I may have

Forgotten the steps.

I will just sit here,

For a while,

And wait for my feet

To catch up with my brain.

One day it might

Be the other way round.

And my guess is,

I would not

Like that either.