Litkicks Message Board Archive

one of those mornings (please critique)

Posted to Poetry




It was one of those mornings,
Waking, deep in the south suburbs, holding tight to my sheets
Shielding myself from the blinding light
The devil
The unmerciful

It was a morning of blurred discomfort
Of unyielding pain and surrealism
I sat and shook in my fluffy cocoon, holding strong to my sleep
Trying hard to keep to the sheets, keep to my restless slumber

The shooting urge came on quick,
Rushed through me like a furious river
Poked at my nerves, knifed at my endurance
I felt my shield of slumber slowly shake then splinter
Letting the pain seep through and penetrate
It held strong, even pushed; I had to do it.

A long, yellow-arched stream flowed out the bedroom window
Spurting out the dehydrated fluids from the night befores destructive binge

Nothing feels better than to piss out your window after a night that is too vague to explain
Leaving you not fatigued but lazy, and languid,
Not sad, but surprisingly happy, with a thick, heavenly smile melting on my face.
You don’t bother to go to your distant bathroom, so unnecessary
I take the most sufficient route in pissing
THE LEAN AND WEAVE

A quick tuck to the left
Flip the zip and let it go, requiring little effort, yet so satisfying

These are the days of the mid-morning strategizing
The days of half-cocked logic
Thinking of absurd ways to dumb things up for a slow mind
Cherish these days of your carefree youth
These days our endless in your deranged mind