Morning Frustration

In a haze, I look out over the hills

The mists of morning combine with mental fog

It dims not my vision, but my sense of self

I have seen the gears of the universe

The patterns that repeat

Lives, too short to notice the mistakes they repeat

A puff of the pipe and I can tolerate the pain a bit more

Personality is an odd thought, personifying each means of thought

The multifarious perceptions exist within me

Each demanding their own moment in control

Today, ennui rules, and only this poem escapes me