Morning brings a foggy head, clouded, like swimming in oil, not a lot I can do about it now, I just wish I was more grounded in the soil.
I sip coffee hoping for a lift, to fly again, be one hundred percent. But the haze persists, nothing I can do as my will is bent.
And every morning is like this, slow, unsteady, I know I need the pills that do this, but I wish it didn’t take hours to get ready.
D March 2017