Morphine

[shakespearean sonnet]

One new morning I woke up with the devil.
With coffee in his hand, we had a talk.
I said I had a dream that made me still.
He asked 'what?' in a voice like he was my folk.
I looked at him and then to the ceiling.
I looked at him and he was grossly gone.
I stood from bed and saw his head hanging
near my window beside the combusting sun.
One morning I woke up with an angel.
With bottled water in hand, she greeted
me with a smile; she's like a precious jewel;
she's a feast that makes my stomach well fed.
I woke up looking at the canopy -
I killed myself beneath the old oak tree.