morning duel

drifting, swallowing spit, wallowing in the haze.
invisible wings of productiveness weighing me down, keeping me from pushing away the sheets.
the smog layer high above, encircling the city, my subconscious tells me to stay inside.
the sepia photograph was fake, it was taken yesterday, tricking me to believe in a better past.
the frost of morning melted with february and a silent movie plays in my sleep.
delirious and fatigued, my body stiffens with a dull dull ache.
oil and water, me and the morning- the sun's million year old rays finding the corners of my eyes,
burns me good.
an alley cat cries and i know it's time. the music of the streets are not music to my waking ears.
the shallow mist of a slipping dream floats past, kissing my eyelids while i keep them closed-
praying i'll fall back asleep- the golden slumber of the snooze button.
overdue and overdone.
the million year old rays are tickling the beginnings of wrinkles under my eyes.
the million year old rays know no mercy to a tired, faded wild flower in a bed by the window.
the shades must be replaced with opaque curtains- the persistent sun will not give up.
new curtains as the murder weapon. colonel mustard in the bedroom.
or else the sun will always win.