I didn't sleep again last night my yesterday is still taking place as my fingers gently press these keys so as to not wake my brother restless, I realized, I've seen a sunset but never a sunrise
the streets were still asleep the only ones about only the down and out the poor black folk the aimless hipsters the homeless the single mothers with three jobs who wait alone under a flickering street light for the bus which will take them to their deadpan jobs the puddles from last night's storm rest with not a ripple and the pretty little birdies start finding their voice restless, I realized, after the sunsets the world opens up her eyes
periwinkle horizons blend easily with the grey skyline and the line between man and God blurs the sky is tropical mango cocktails and pillows of white Caribbean sand the smell is left - like a residue - chasing after the tail of a storm but the air is wet to the touch hinting at repeat of the downpour and I would've sat on the arm of that denim sofa hour after hour until the world was ready to wake up giving me a chance to sleep off their insecurities, only, I felt like writing this poem only, I felt like a sunrise or maybe a sunset? or just maybe a ******* supernova I felt good brimming with peace in my gut like a warm fire restless, I realized, that after all is set I will still love the sunrise