Moorning mood












How the silence
in the morning breaks
in pieces of bird-chatter
and tripping in the gutter

on my pillow

I gather the splinters
of yesterday together
wipe them bleeding
under the bed

next to the bogeyman
and a fluff that lives there

the alarm clock moans load
inside of me
drowns me in a haze
on my half-open eye
some digits marked in red

it is still to early to be awake.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

11/10/2014

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