Poetry...? Yep, and the closest I've come to a self-portrait. Hard to explain, but each word here is acutely related to the way I wake each day...
He awoke to an explosion of silence,
awoke to open eyes weary with dreams,
and stare entranced at nothing.
His mouth moves, and his feet
hit the floor like the fall of
an axe.
Wisps of memory tangle in his hair,
and as his fingers trace the disarray
his mouth moves again, a shade closer
to a smile.
Standing, he sways, the window before
him. Sunset rises to greet him, to
slide off his face and pool on his
outstretched arm, and in this light
he sneezes twice, and laughs at the
size of the world...