by mickharris

i hate you, morning

i hate your sun and your filtered green leaves on my eyelids

i hate your chill and your ethereal beauty

i hate your ground fog and your glowing grass and your dew and your 





i hate a lot of things about you

like how i say i’m going to write in you, really relish your quiet

when all that happens is i roll over, peel my eyes open and hit the snooze

i hate that i can’t seem to be in you, conscious, present

without caffeine, a shower, a deep sense of alienation from the adult and fully present world


i hate that you seem to belong to other people

i hate that you steal my sleeplessness, my accomplishments fueled by 3 am dizzy pride

in writing

that really seems like garbage when i read it in the sunshine.