Reality bites your head off
Come morning when you come to.
Shocked to consciousness by the guiltless sun of the morning
Brave and bright like a shot of Irish courage.

And accomplice to this murderer of sleep
That shard of pain in your head
Skewering your temples from both flanks
Pulsating outwards from within...

You awake in sub-sureality
Where form exist and disappear
Like rippled visions under the desert sun
Evolving and dissolving from sight
Like friends through a revolving door
A constant cycle that begins before it ends
A thirst that is quenched with dehydration
Hence we think of stopping
Day after day after yesterday.

It's still not too late
But it will soon be
Shadows soak the ground like a punctured squid
And swallow the details that sketch the land.
The sun yawns its last
And all is dark
'Cept for the white candle
A haunting reminder that it was too late.

Anticipation gnaws on your bones
And impatience doesn't speed up the sluggish hand.
The storm will pass
It always does
But never soon enough.

Dawn eventually collides with dusk
And the dark heavens are smeared with angry amber
Alas, the broken clouds mend themselves.
The ground is soggy
But the journey must begin.
The journey that should have started a sunset ago.

The arrival is akward
The wind as sharp as the reality of the event.
Happy belated birthday Sara.
No explanation was necessary
For none was called for.
No excuses were called for
For none would be good enough.

Shadows soak the ground like a punctured squid
And swallow the details that sketch the land.
The sun yawns and gasps its last
And all is dark
'Cept for the white candle
A haunting reminder of that drop of rain
That will never fall again.