Awake
 I break myself upon the day
my eggshell soul craves early morning coffee
 for my aching junkie veins
my eyes begin to bleed without the thought of tears
 but they refuse to close again
my soul is fading in light, opened by blue dawns
 I read prophetic words divinely inspired
my dose of morning scripture
 before my daylight madness of poetry and sin
and then I meditate like Gandhi with transcendent
 songs of the deaf soul bleeding with the hands
of Ludwig Van Beethoven for one full hour of bliss
 before I read some Blake or Ginsberg
and fall into another day.