Raisin’ A Ruckus

I want to destroy
the Morning
and give birth to
the Day

My stomach is churning
knuckles burning
with cessation
I am not prolific,
only a question

It’s five a.m.
I’m always the last awake

I like talking to myself
I like singing songs
I can See what can’t belong

I am everywhere
and the pain of
my biology
requires much contemplation
and my soul
is beyond
Divine Consultation

I leave a lot behind –
Is it poetic riddle
or a loss of sleep?


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