At this time of morning

Forgetting about the increasing pain,

I get outta bed.

Bent like a nail

I fumble clumsily towards the door.

Knives in my eyes at the first light.

Wincing in a half-lidded stare,

I take a good look at myself.

When you feel like thirty-tree cents,

You usually look like it too...

At this time of morning

Envy replaces the cavity

That once held my soul

For it stayed in the bedroom

Still slumbering alongside my girl

cause I wont be using it today.

Unsteadily, I clothe myself,

Wavering to and fro ungracefully

settling upon the nearest wall

As my leg slides into grungy gear.

The teevee recites

Carbon copies of usual news

Bleakness and corruption,

Death and destruction.

My morning peaks

With a searing hot toaster pastry,

A moment of magic that echoes

Throughout my commute.

Karaoke keeps me sane

at 70 miles per hour,

My cracking voice sings

the wrong words in the wrong key.

As I force my eyes back open

From each and every blink,

Profanities attach themselves

To every vehicle traveling

At or below the speed limit.

When I reach my fill in the blank job,

I bee-line to the caffeine station

Noticing nothing new

I await the whistle

To put in my eight.