Startled awake
by
shattering glass
and big ben alarm clocks

getting my bearings
in the snapchat 
bedroom
my feet
bare
and
cracked
land
on a cold dusty floor
littered
with 
instagram filters
and
gimcrack beliefs

Was
I was sleeping
through
life
?

This corpulent duffle 
of daydream
drags
me
down
deep
Alkmaar
grooved
on
my shoulders

I long
like
Atlas
to shrug

it
off


I slide the straps back
and let it fall
to yesterday's
floor

Freed from that peaty wasteland

I
find
my
path

NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo 2018 - Day 27
Based on the prompt to write a poem inspired by a random tarot card

EIGHT OF CUPS

Deeper Meaning

Moving On

Weariness