My mind, slugging along like an engine that's quart low. The morning hour feels like the moon must feel to an astronaut stepping out of the lander for the first time. Nothing looking or feeling quite the way it does during the day, when I normally escape the cage that is my apartment. The sun doesn't seem to reside in the correct part of the sky and it's brighter than usual. The streets are more full than I'm used to seeing, taking more time to get from point A to point B. The morning air is brisk and light, the smoke I exhale from my morning cigarette hangs in the air. Seeming like small Christmas ornaments hanging in mid-air, attaching themselves to each curl and bend. The morning coffee is bitter and forcing my to open my eyes. The chair sitting next to the old carport with the roof that looked like it was ready to cave in on the cars parked under it, where I take my morning coffee and smoke isn't as inviting as it usually is. The sun is too low in the sky, reminding my cold skin of how early it is and how much I'd rather be in bed curled up in the covers.
The leaves have begun to change colors and wilt and fall off the tree behind my house. For a moment I'm lost in a day dream, the leaves reminding me of an elderly gentleman, clinging to life like one of the leaves. Confused and beginning to wither, refusing to let go and admit the tree doesn't need it anymore. My next door neighbor emerges from his home, bringing the trash out. He doesn't say good morning, nor does he need to. We've developed this relationship of talking only when we're forced to and it's not that we don't enjoy each others company, it's just that we've discovered that there isn't much to talk about.
Picking up my coffee and stashing my cigarette butt in a soda can I start to head for my front door. The gentle breeze still cold, forcing my skin to tighten and raise it's only defense. The morning's day dreams are lost in the shuffle of preparing for the long day ahead. It all seems to blur into one and dreams become reality and reality becomes a dream as the screen door slams shut behind me.
Original source: http://feelisnotdead.wordpress.com/?p=72
