Thursday, September 08, 2005

Upon Waking.

Upon waking, the morning slips into me like the last bits of sand slipping through an hour glass. I lay in bed for as long as I can stand to listen to myself think things which I have no control over. It is the morning that determines the rest of my day; I judge myself by my dreams as I let scenes replay over and over again, never fully aware of the judgment but always aware of the emotion the judgment induces. I contemplate the day which cracks wide open in front of me and wonder if tomorrow I'll wake up fulfilled or at least content to have achieved something.


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