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