Pure Apathy Poem by H.D. Griffiths

It is morning and I am hurting
Standardized 8 hours of empty thought
As I slept the world turned to face the sun.
I was fortunate enough to see it rise over the horizon while peeking from under the covers.
Not yet ready to leave my fabricated nest to embrace its comfort I reach for the snooze button.
40,000 miles per hour and I can't seem to leave my bed out of fear of temperature change.
We all have these weird eccentricities to separate ourselves from the grey mundane men and women trying to squeeze themselves into a shrinking box of societal norms. Under the sun we're all the same. Passengers on a million mile round trip but still going nowhere. And then I reach for the snooze button.