There is lethargy,

There is lethargy,

With the feel of winter

The kitchen is a barren Tundra

The white on black

Polar opposites.

The icy blast of air

From the fridge

Its bleak insides

Sculpted from leftovers.

The building blocks

Of breakfast,

Failing to cement

My listless progress.

Languid thoughts melt

Like snowflakes

The coffee pot sings

In holy communion

As the world spins

Further away

In reckless pursuit of itself.

Disintegration

Is almost complete,

It needs no explanation

Words are glacial.

I could be on a mountain top

High in the Himalayas

So far removed

Am I from reality.

If this is life everlasting

I would want for an end,

There is little to see

In extremis.

I have dug myself in,

Taken root

Pulled up the covers

Buried, up to my neck

In self-delusion.

I am rewarded

In spades

Crackpot neurons

Fire at will.

If only I could share

The moment,

Each one an opportunity

For growth

Wasted on self-regard

And turmoil.

I am virtually awake

Ready to be human

I will feel closer to life

After coffee