MO(U)RNiNG

rise, rise..

Take me back, sweet silence!...

Can life stand still and still be? – Sleep is the answer... an answer...

No conscious heart'n'soul is to be taken anywhere these times. They don't exist as themselves. At least not as MINE themselves... The world around, outside, lies dead, salutes MY form of death. But how would I know? ––

Because much more importantly: Every WILL lies silent, too...

Then, shortly waking up during the depths of sleep, peeking into a semi-life for the blink of a soul and realizing: This kind of sleepy-deepy freedom of the 'inner whatever' is an ornate, ancient, heathen kind of truth that's hard to be topped by anything in life but ridiculous ephemeral thrills (or per-maybe-haps the still not entirely dismissed myth called 'love'?? – assuming it's not just a somehow periodic special case of them..)...

Finally the inescapable stone cold awakening:

A semi-automatic restrengthening of these inside-the-world monochrome senses.

O! still so hard heaving heads out of where they scattered-mindedly want to belong – wherever that might be –; finding impatient joy in ongoing time again, in the limited movement of those strange bodies one carries or gets carried by, in somehow identifying with them...

And yet still to develop a WILL further than theirs.

Mornings are the hardest part of life when you just still KNOW that being conscious is not the state'n'place to be (even, or especially when you don't know how you know)...

..and fade away --

The dimming of the day is very much alike.

[the same but different..] ––:

This hard day is never done at sunset.

It took too many cuts, too close to the heart, to get used to this ruthless light..

So i stand and stare...

And mourn in vein.

'How, Nature! (or God! if you like), how can you dare ending a day that is not yet, that might never be finished?

How can I ever play along with your wicked game; your periods so fixed and unforgiving..? –

I just merely got around to performing these broken, imperfect out-of-dream-gestures...

Don't leave me hanging now...!

Don't make me drink my next world to sleep.

Don't fucking push the next hangover down my throat.

Don't let this circle start over...'

Hopeless.

Hard.travelin' it still is...