it doesn't end until you wake

it doesn't end until you wake


it was too early to be home
specially for a Monday but
the office kept saying sorry

everyone was too busy for
my wife’s funeral a week
ago and it wasn’t sudden

or maybe that’s why they’re
sorry or is it that she isn't
living like she use to be

most likely it’s the fogged
cross eyed look I give to
everyone I haven’t slept

or woke for a week of
Mondays the bed is too
cold and there isn’t a

speed bump yelling at me
to slow down so I don’t
roll over my side of the bed

she use to get mad at me
and she was the one that
woke the dog with snores

and farts (he can’t sleep
either he won’t even come
to bed or eat his dog food)

I lay here early to bed not
knowing the time other
then the hours of Monday

and maybe one day I’ll sleep
or wake for a Tuesday and
no one will say sorry to me




"The Writer's Cramp"  13+: Write the best story or poem in 24 hours or less and win 10,000 GPs!


Prompt:Write a story or poem about a Monday that seems un-survivable...


[30 lines]