drink the days dream like the dying

the out of bed  
stub toe morning  
breaks the bitter  
pill of love lost  
in local trauma  
 
the toe bleeds  
the tile is cold  
on the feet,    
the scald of water  
a blanket for the brain  
 
metal mouth teats have sucked  
milk in plastic by the gallon  
waiting in the kitchen  
to guzzle your cheery o  
 
off to fuckin
whistlin work we go  

 
cause things run in ovals  
and the sun takes prisoners  
in the race  
 
and the moon haunts your  
dreams with lies of escape  
 
is that your shadow following  
or are you chained to it  
 
wake up! snap out of it!  
there are things to do, places to go  
don't you want plagues  
in your honor, we meant  
plaques for your games' names  
 
epitaphs don’t count my friend  
any more than these words  
so stop counting the sheep  
and bugger them already
or at least shear em  
and knit a sweater  
 
evolution isn't shy  
gotta mix it up now  
and again, friends with foes  
feather the fins, claw some skin  
weathers the same
burn it up, freeze it down
no hobgoblins here  
 
if you recover  
from your habit of being dead  
we will sacrifice the boss  
on a pyre of stick-y notes  
"boss burning, monday morning,  
bring donuts"
 
free the holy cows from your  
loafing shoe money grind mind  
 
throw beads to the girls bearing breasts  
suckle the days' dream like the dying  
should drink the last fresh days of life
as newborns in cream nipple stupor