Lethargy

Awake at midday.
Upright by two.
Greet the sun.
Alone, save you.

I spent hours drifting in that place between awake and asleep.
While I was there, everything finally deigned to make sense.
I understood it all, laid out before me in an ever-widening web
or a tapestry, or a set of choking snares, or a maze.
I understood it all.

There's so very much that needs to be done.
A song that needs to be sung, and words that need
to be written.
A challenge made to be beaten.
A dog to be fed.
And a ravenous horde of beasts to be quelled
inside your head.

Oh, and a floor to clean, the rent to pay, a prayer to say.
The little mundane intricacies that weigh upon you.
No wonder you wouldn't rise.
This inspiring malaise that takes you to that place
where it all makes sense
comes at a price.

So stretch yourself out on the rack.
Writhe and cry out as bones crack and muscles pull.
They'll pull out your tongue and they'll pour till you're full.
But if you drift like smoke and fog in a bucket
the talons can't grasp you.

Awake at midday.
Upright by two.
Spit on the sun.
And it might save you.