In my childhood room 
you sprawl across the bed
emanating coiled languor;
confidently masculine, 
satisfied feline
seeming at rest. 

You regard me with fondness
and curiosity, testing
my mettle.

Am I enough?

I try to tell you I am lacking,
so disorganized, so chaotic,
incapable of the straightlaced
discipline and ramrod posture
you strut through life with.

And yet you drawl,
"Oh darlin', you're gonna have to."

I don't know--

I don't know

Yet ... unfurled potentials await 
a daring invitation...

The alarm blares, 
pulling
out of the primordial void.

Wretched with consciouness, disappointment consumes;
corpsed reluctance, the dead reanimated unnaturally.

I lurch into the fray. 
Fiending for caffeine, 
I stumble in the pre-dawn dark. 

My apneic companion, 
oblivious,
saturates the bedsheets
with too much heat.