this morning, rising in a scurry; I gathered my sheets into a bundle. before the shrill sounds leapt from my alarm clock, pulling myself across the room and into another. there was little light, begging to be let in. at it’s call, I turned my cheek across to face a separate place. the windows remained unopened; I watch as light shifts.
some morning’s are filled only with sheets of ignorance, not the accidental sorts but rather; some you are fooled into believing – they do not exist. your grogginess, too much cake you had eaten the night before; the gurgling in your belly as if moving across acres of land. on darker days; the unsteadiness of setting your feet into a new day.