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...