Lying in Bed
Early morning brings me to my senses,
another day to survive the madness of me.
Can I lie here some more?
It seems I’m flying this morning,
hovering over a mattress by one finger length,
rather than waking to a body full of splinters.
Today I’m suspended with dreamy voices
whispering angelic words of an ideal existence.
Can I lie here some more seems to be a fitting request.
Activities start in the house
cutlery crashing, children shouting.
I instantly land on a bed no longer soft.
It takes a few minutes of wriggling and pushing,
before I’m sat knowingly on the edge.
The solid wall reassures me whilst I find my legs
full of unsteady leaking sludge,
the floor doesn’t seem safe anymore.
My first steps are laboured,
sinking in potholes left in strategic places.
Slowly and tentatively I reach the chest of drawers
and enjoy its steady workmanship.
I grab a stick and tap into my day.
Background: Sometimes when I wake up, it feels like my MS has gone. Unfortunately it doesn't last.