Morning
Dreams of nonsense drip from my weary eyes like candle wax. The shimmering full moon reflects off my coffee cup as I stagger through the predawn mist. Remnants of the night are written profoundly within the deep pillow imprints on my forehead. My messy hair and stubbly face greet me in the toothpaste spattered mirror. Twenty three long minutes until that annoying alarm makes itself known. And the cool, dark morning begins again. The TV flickers in the dark living room; local news of a new murder. It's these quite moments before the roar of finding shoes, backpacks, and homework... Those few moments sitting outside with my coffee in the cold moonlight... Trying to decipher last nights incoherent dreams... That moment of fuzzy clarity... Caught between sleep and chaos... Ah, my precious mornings...
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