post wake up philo poems

It is

<p class="has-text-align-center" value="<amp-fit-text layout="fixed-height" min-font-size="6" max-font-size="72" height="80">so warm in bedso warm in bed

however I have made it out

to grab this book to fall back

now I’m glued to it, too lazy

knowing the day has begun again,

another Saturday – yeah, Is it really Saturday again?!

This sort of marathon makes me depressive

if not depressed already

It is night when I fall to sleep & in between

there is a numbness of light

like a muddy glas jar & you’re not sure

if the morning is over by now

feels more that days consist now

only of mornings & evenings

there is nothing in between

just a little numbness like a yawn maybe

there is

no time anymore for something intermédiare

we have no time to breathe or consciously do nothing

rarely time to stop and glance at what we have

what we see

a world lies down underneath our feet

only, when we dare to stop time

by ourselves