Monday Morning

Its a bit hazy
the ways I get out of bed.
The fears I induce
when waking from death.
The corpse that is me
for about 6 hours
struggles to remember
a reason not to cower
at the thought of a day
when in so many ways
everything goes wrong.
----
these days are good
i tell myself.
these days treat you well
with a home, career, health.
yet this nagging annoyance
that persists and endures
every freakin monday....

....alright. i was trying to be serious, but monday morning poems tend to be a bit one sided.