The fleshy gears of my sockets creak open
Working past dry crust and pleasant dreams,
My residence seems serene as I look upon the scene,
That makes up my place of rest
I gain control of my fingers once more and weave them through the velvet that surrounds me
Elation and fascination springs from the core of my bunk, as my blanket peppers me with silk kisses
I express my thanks to the brave warrior who protects me from the cold
This comforting sensation has become my salvation as it urges me to rest for a longer duration
But the icy winds are backed up by another friend,
And my eyes immediately sense,
That a much more sinister plot is about to commence
For the tarp is pulled over and my peace is shattered
The composed atmosphere becomes scattered,
As I see the solid screen of light reading 5:29
Only a minute more before show time
Only a minute before I must rise and shine,
A minute more before life takes what is mine
As it takes my rest and my alluring covers,
And casts them aside
What if, I don’t want to get up?
I cry to the Lord, saying “I do not want your cup!”
For the pleasures of the world are much more enticing
Sleek, bold, and seductively inviting
They are much more popular and tailor to what my body craves
So yes, I don’t think I’ll get up…
But hear me my friends, for I succeed against other temptations
At least when it comes to eating unhealthy food, I have a stronger foundation
For it is only at my weakest when I eat oily wrapped morsels
On days that are hard, I justify my binging
I claim that I deserve my prize
Which consists of a double play, some candy, and cheese fries
I attempt to run past, but the succulent smells of high calorie food wafer in,
Barging in to my nostrils and searching the house, before implanting themselves upon my heart, releasing the lustful motives
I don’t mean to succumb,
It is just that, I am so glum
Their greasy features promise release
How can I possibly not indulge in the midst of defeat?
But the trials do not stop there,
For on days where life has become a sack of bricks crushing me down,
The idea of “giving up” seems much more sound
For as I write, my blood seeps into from my veins into the pen,
As the liquid life of my body becomes the ink in which I compose
No longer do I type on the keyboard, lightly stecattoing with the grace of a pianist
Instead, I hit random keys hoping some combo will make sense
Morals and desires clash, preparing for a bloody war
But I must rise above and push away,
Despite the alluring index finger of my cravings
So when you see me hear standing today,
Know that many battles were fought to arrive
And though delicacies of the world appear to save us from our selfish starvation,
It is best to persevere and retaliate, rather than give in to temptation
