sometimes the morning sits on me

Sometimes the morning sits on me;
an unseen monster crushing me,
and I cannot breath
or open my eyes,
and all I hear is the sound of my heart.
Still, I feel no panic,
no fear.
My burden is in the waiting
till the monster tires of me
and the day begins.

Some days I can't feel anything.
I am inanimat, robotic, mechanical
but everything becomes simple
the truth becomes illluminated
and there is no past
and there is no future
and the present is a poem, unwritten
all the verses complete
but only in my head.

Sometimes the night is endless
Nothingness drifting into emptiness
surrounded by total deprivation.
And I'm ok with this
Because in the void I am not my responsibilities.
I am carefree
calm and peaceful.
The desolation is easy,
but it's lonely.

Most of the time though,
I am dancing
to a song that only I can hear.
People that love me think I should be sadder.
I should rail against injustice and be wrathful when I am wronged.
But I can not write their bitter sonnett,
better that they think me a sweet fool.
It's ironic.
If they could just one time feel the music that's inside me,
they would be dancing, too.