Morning World

Pack the sleepless nights in to a suitcase
and tell the five day bender to leave the kids
at their grandparent's house.
Replace the cold spot in the bed with a living,
breathing hot water bottle
shaped like the sexiness you only ever heard about.
Watch the clouds dance through the spectrum
from grey to absent.
Listen as a world of children learn to ask
'how do you do?'
 
Realise there are solids beyond the refrigerator door,
turn your back on a 5-a-day nightmare  
where the fruit might as well have been tabs of acid
administered whilst you spend your first night
in a crowded prison cell.
No more sitting in accident and emergency
for thirteen, long unlucky hours
wondering if they can put your hand back together.
 
Drop the pretence.
Don't mimic the gods for too long.
Drop whatever it was you weren't doing
and run at the page, life and rhythm.
Now you can dance through the nightmares
that will never truly go away,
but you will take them
and they will be crafted
to look so fucking good
that you'll forget why
you  ever tried  
to do anything else.