It's not easy to say good morning
When your yesterday is still part of your today
and the hours the sun rise and morning papers
My night was still going
my sun was still a reflection held in the moons face
Tired and drained lost in infomercials and paper planes
The ticking of the clock becomes the tapping of impatient fingers
Is that a ring from the florescent lights or is that silence
Holding trash bags of wasted time over my shoulder
And eyes fixed on an empty checklist of things I should do
I wait for the footsteps of early birds
The sun to push past the curtains
And floats over to touch my arm
Reminding me that night wasn't going to wait for me
Day is an opinionated jerk
But my eyelids are anchors
My joints are rusted boat
But my bed never felt so soft
I am tired
I am finally going to sleep