Tin Roofs

mornings... suck. unless they begin at around eleven at the earliest.

the covers fall off the bed

as the alarm stealthily plays

the devil's ringtone

to the acclaimed

"get the f**k out of bed"

symphony

 

my eyelids stay closed

whilst someone thinks to turn off the noise

i can't feel the fingers

attatched to my hands

on either side of my hips

my palms face each other

feigning consciousness

and thoughtfullness both

 

my head lolls to the other side

of my shoulders

the hot air becoming too much

 

my t shirt starts to crumple up

as dawn's pale fingers

pull through my curtains

Author's Note

i dont know about the rest of your alls note taking... but dawn's pale fingers are throughout the oddysee (sp?)