Eyes tired. Bloodshot. Pupils dry. Fuzz in sight. It is a damp morning/ so dark almost night. Okay that may have something to do with my eyesight. I have cold feet/ a blue nose disguised as red/ and I ate soggy food a few minutes ago. Rainless/ but pale. Pale white. Pale blue. Pale like my skin. Like my head felt. Empty roads as I pass by. So I moved onto it/ as the pavements caved away and left me no option. Bags for life under my eyelids. Biodegradable like the rest. I remember the steam. Black heat. Black. Black/ like a void/ that is what my coffee looked like. But a calm void. A cosy void/ with a bitter taste. WakemeupforIamtootiredforthisdayanditssky. Give me life/ give me space. I wonder. What if I strolled off into that walkway down there. Where would it take me. Away from the buildings. More trees/ less concrete. I pick out a leaf. Should I drag it with me? Will it want too. Is it tired of being part of that tree? They do live/ but can they define that? They seem to have flow away on the other trees. The bark won’t let it leave. I pull it away. Singular. My/ that is quite a green. I’m sure there is a name for it.  Somewhere on a palette. Painters would know the name. It would be there mixed in with yellow/ blue/ even brown and white. I couldn’t describe it. But I am drawn. It perks me up. Like a beam in the grey. This leaf was built from time/ built from commitment. It isolated its beauty. Not just for me. And yet here I am jealous/ guilty for holding it in my hands. I would like to believe this is sacrifice/ to show me the hope in the day. Maybe. But if it feels. A somber thought/ a definite early morning concept to wonder. Then I am unsure. To pick at it. I should let it be. But I don’t. Peel. Peel. Peel. At every little section. The apex/ the midrib/ the veins. The texture. It saddens me. I throw it away. And vow to not let it hurt my day. To carry on/ is to be the case.