Dark,

but only for a moment,

like I'm conscious

just before the light turns on

and it's time to get up.

Eyes

both open

and heavily pressed for sleep;

but my eyes know the truth,

it's time to get up.

A dizzy doll

for a body, with

weak knees, a buzzing tailbone, a locked jaw--

it'd be nice to tear them off.

An empty dome, no,

a submarine in this haze

for a head,

I live only in my eyes and head,

how the pressure longs to weep,

so close to tears,

but it's time to get up.

The day's only begun,

I've nothing to cry for now,

but the tears will grow closer as the day

goes on, but only just so,

sometimes leaking.

The submarine

drags the doll

along the earth, in the haze

again,

because that's what I have to do.

It's time to get up,

it's time to get up.