Days of the damned..

Mornings are still mornings
I ache to type a note 'Good day dear'
Senses take a while to show me the light
Mornings are not the same mornings

I see myself in the mirror
All that's same is the mirror alone
Barely recognizing the figure it says is me,
I rub my eyes, look again and still unfamiliar

As the day passes, routine takes over
Every now and then though the pain returns
I can barely hold on and move along
All I want is a short cut to the day's end

Afternoons were times of anticipation
Purely moments of imagination
Now its cloudy and dark, colorless and grey
Breeds angst, anger and disgust galore

Evenings I hope the sun might go back to the East
Or a shower might just make me take a walk
Time used to fly when I was on the phone
Now it croaks only to tell me the battery is running low

Nights have gone cold and cruel, grown fangs
Darkness brings no peace, but dreadful thoughts
Cursing my fate, even sleep keeps a distance
Dreams are now the stuff I read in the books

As I lie there on my bed, I still recall
How we used to talk till we drop
Now its a pain even to close an eye
It only brings memories and tears

In some godless moment in the middle of the night
I slip into a coma, at last for a little peace
Even its short lived, only till the break of light
That's all the luxury I've earned, in an otherwise damned life.