Heavy Glower Before My Shower

It’s early morning, more night than morning really, at least in any real sense of morning in the poetic sense, with all the attendant birds chirping and sun rays bathing the earth. There is not a hint of natural light anywhere, not a glint of the first fresh glimmer that will truly mean morning has broken through night’s defenses and serves notice that it intends to expose night’s fraudulence before vanquishing all reminders of darkness’ mien. As sure as death and taxes, I know morning will, in its inimitable way, soon make its presence known, robbing me of sullen, dour inspiration and forcing me to deal with reality’s starkness. So I bid adieu to the ebony demons even now begging me to stay in their midst, imploring me to give them voice before they sleep. But don’t expect me to embrace the fairies and nymphs of brightness… somehow their wholesome innocence tweaks my suspicion and I envision a world of door-to-door Jehovah’s Witnesses waiting to ring my bell as soon as I step into the tub.