my alarm wakes me with the sun, mere minutes after falling asleep.

i give thanks. i wash my hands, right-left-right-left-right-left, and get out of bed.

the ache in my leg is barely dulled and i wince while pulling my pants on.

i check my bedsheets and seeing a new stain i instinctively laugh at it.

the air in my room is dead and stale.

in the mirror i splash cold water on my face until i can tell who's looking back at me.

i take a stimulant and a cup of coffee for breakfast.

from my lips i let out ancient words, automatic as though i am a machine

built for the sole purpose of singing Your praises and working a dead-end job

i bind Your law upon my arm and upon my head and i mumble to myself

only partially considering the meaning of the tones i produce

then i check the time and head for the door.

in the dark hours of the night i wait for you

only gone a moment, of course, from me

in discomfort i turn over in my sheets

dead air fills my bedroom, nowhere to go

the evening offers little respite from the thick summer heat

it is then i realize you were never here at all

you were, of course, gone before i woke,

gone before my head had ever hit the pillow.

when i dream of you it is so real.

for a moment you are actually in my bed, and then it's gone.