Unfolding from broken rest by early grey morning
A rest of rhythmic dark speckled by tiny flashes of light
A visual ‘standby’ message seen behind closed eyes
No dreams other than faces moving and heads turning
Just enough to stay aware of myself in a room
And a solemn feeling of losing somebody holds still
In the waking world this turns to grieving somebody already lost
A recognition of foolishness and dead embers
More grey than morning and heavier than nothingness
Just enough to finally give up















