Friday, January 6, 2017


i lie down in my bed
the mattress splits up under me
to swallow me whole
like a sinkhole in space
for a peaceful moment
i am free from all the cold
the hate that fulminates
the anger and the rage
for a blissful moment
i turn the page
and then
(oh then)
a stray draft of cold air
silently creeps into my warm lair
it tickles my feet
crawls up my legs
as try to dream of futures
in coffee dregs
the bed spits me out again
confused, disoriented, i am in pain
so much pain
i just went to sleep 1 minute ago
why do i have to wake up again?
Where did I read the word fulminate today? I don't know, but i like this word.
This poem is for all those who hate getting out of bed on cold mornings.

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