Recently, I’ve been writing a lot of poetry first thing in the morning during that hyper-creative period in-between full blown sleep, slumber, and lucid waking. See below for details.
Somewhere In-between Waking Up and Breaking Up
I’ve cheated on my consciousness.
My mistress was a dream.
But waking up is breaking up,
I need a change of scene.
As every night I sin
Into the dark and I’m unseen
Until the dawning morning’s calling me.
I fumble with the keys
That let me back into my consciousness:
The home I never leave
(When I’m awake) but when I sleep
I make a break with practiced ease.
If the tactic is deceit,
Then the dream is a receipt,
And the memory recites
Of what was said and what was seen
At that teasing stage of waking
Everything is not as seems,
And your memories are shaken,
Blurry, indistinct; you need
To either learn how to return
Or just decide where you should be,
For waking up is breaking up.
Or somewhere in-between.