Early Hour, Late Mind

As in a Lay-z-boy I sit,
feet on my desk,
my head ploping back,
finding sweet mattress on the chair back top.
Early this morning I remember lost loves
Feeling folding words that once found place in my wooly head.

Knowing I am gaping
Knowing not my filler.

Perhaps it is God,
just like I've heard through tattered, feathered ears.
I think I found that once.
And yet I remain chronically uncomfortable.
My leg is falling asleep,
Just like my mind,
and soon my body.

Images and pains still echo with the fleeting avoidance and habit of hatred.
For just as I made one love me,
So I have made me hate one.
And difficult it is to unmake.
A more equal time share in my split-level head.

Gladly my mind still rolls onward.

Perhaps I will someday be famous for my sentiments,
Hopefully after I die,
Sinfully while I live in death.