awakening in the afterbirth of a stillborn day

Woke up today. Eyes opened in the same tiny frames.  
Mouth agape and dried with yesterday's words, breathing in a recirculated breeze.  

Dust born coughs rattle me out of bed, and my head pleads me with throbs to lay back down.  
Emotions spur with pleas to do the same...lay back down...
don't move....forget today.  

There's some danger here.  
Some risk hiding in the corners of the awaiting routine.  Something I can't see.  
Only something I can feel...sense.  
The same things I always feel...the same things I always sense.  
The day before and the day before and the year before
and how many years before?  

Did this risk happen?  Did the danger ever arrive?
 My heart says yes, while my logic screams an adamant I don't know.  
I don't know.  

Lift the legs over.  
Find the ground, a familiar discomfort.  
Back bent, slouching, caving in.  
I want to cry here but I don't.  
This is harder than it should be.  I should be able to get right up.  

Was awakening ever a promising idea?  
Did the daylight ever show me anything I actually wanted to see?  

I don't know.  
I don't remember.  
I won't.