anemic morning

i had a horrible dream last night that left me weak-kneed and weary...it was one of those mornings where you want to pop the cork on a bottle of wine simply to wash-away your battered ego, and the memory of ever being alive...i awoke to the sounds of children on the street chanting "lets go mets" and it made me want to puke...so easy to say, so simple to remember...it brought forth visions of the grand sickle, slicing through the city, ending its reign...when the head pounds and the limbs are limp, there is nothing to do but toss-and-turn in the silence...and pray for the savior who never shows...