Mundane Monologues: 400 Petals on a Daisy…

Sunrisin’ woven throws and the only melatonin
Seems to come as a rainy day for an overcast gal.

Greyness seeps like the weighted blanket on my bed and I wonder
If there is any usefulness
In all this rest.
While frozen, I undergo any project.

Bland mundanity and flower picking
For sunshine chasing
And I see why at least one dragonfly always
Stops by to say hi.

In all my manners of aching.
There is much cruelty in this heat.
And much suffering in my rest.
I rather get up but the test of making coffee – seems tiresome.

Dehydration or another bout of energy, the same coin.
And I choose to be avoidant.
And relish knowing, I’m a couple hours further into waking up before or after the Sun.

I used to feel betrayed for seeking the graveyard shift.
Somewhere, it just makes me happy nowadays knowing I don’t have to beg for shit
That nobody wants.
And I go yearning again for a new Era of Honesty.


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