After a pain filled sleepless night the old man drags is breathless lifeless corpse out of a sunken bed of jagged thorny rocky shards of steel, unable to yet see as the classical music plays he scrapes himself across the floor to prepare his coffee, as his hands tremble in pain he pours in the water and counts the scoops of grind, fumbling he manages to plug in the percolator, as the coffee begins to perc he shuffles off to the toilet where in a hungerous rage his bowels bellow out, gazing blankly into the abyss the mirror reflects his disheveled hair and beard, he tries to brush them out but his hands can't seem to grasp the brush, stumbling back to his bed he struggles to pull on his socks pants and shoes, he pours a cup of coffee and gently packs his pipe with scraps of tobacco, he shuffles out the door, the morning is wet dark and gray for there maybe a break in the rain but the world as it spins offers no break from the enduring hellish plight the old man is forced to face yet another day;

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