Mourning the Night's Passing.

Mourning The Nights Passing.

Morning pops its 

platinum blond head 

and sun whitened smile 

between the cracks 

in my curtains, vacuuming 

the sleep dirt from my eyes

screaming white noise 

into my blanket muffled ears

as blaring alarms 

alert me to its attack

insidious it destroys 

my dreams in mid-wisp

and drops reality like 

two feet hitting the cold floor

drug like it staggers 

me to the facility

where I can wash off the night

a mirror gleaming in 

the solar rays reveals

the extent of its attack against me 

it has mussed my hair 

into a tangled tumbleweed

and marched tiny 

lines across my face 

impressions from 

the sheets leave furrows

in neat Frankenstienlike stitches

teeth coated with 

yesterday's gluttony

grimace at the fowl 

chicken breath below

eyes glued at the corners 

by the sandman's kiss

I am a refuge from the night, 

mourning it's passing

driven from a dream 

into the enslavement of the day

I am an immigrant emerging 

from a dark country

forced into a shower 

to meet the requirements

of a civilized world that 

assigns me many tasks

carrying excess baggage 

under my eyes 

with my shoulders bent from 

the weight of what's to come

I am admitted into another day