I come awake, sunlight banishing the night,

clawing at curtains it smears the shabby walls...

the debris of yesterday best forgotten offends my sight,

relentless optimism cares not where on it falls.

 

The fog of memory lifts, dreams combust in vampiric flame.

I am adrift, ripped too early from interstellar torpor.

It's not that heavenly bodies could be held to any blame

when sometimes they interrupt, but "please, no fucking more"

 

The street won't relent for birdsong or for breeze,

tongues and footfall percuss unconcerned with my demise...

I curse the brutal concrete and give worship to the trees

denying gods my forfeit who let such horrors rise.

 

Repel the prying rays, permit the darkness stay,

that I might curl one more dream around a world asleep...

to slumber through the noise and the ravages of day,

and not to wake in this one, more damage here to reap.

 

https://wolfgarwords.com/2025/04/02/the-wretched-fool/

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