a morning

revenge of a tired mind
pictures breaking in
sounds of doors banging
into its frame
nine times in the last
five minutes and time
tries to play catch again
eyes moving like a hill
collecting its dirt anew
on pictures
breaking in
sounds of someone trying
to wake you up
but you don’t want to
wake up and disturb the
disorder sleep blesses
you with

my tired mind in one
of its prophecies whispered
to me that i am not there
’cause right now they
are not here but i am