I try to get myself in bed before half ten
So I don’t hate myself
In the morning.
I make sure I brush my teeth.
I shake out my pony tale and then
Put it back.
Sometimes I wash my face.
The ginger Tom Cat spreads across my
White cotton sheets,
Like he fucking owns the place,
And I curl around him until he shuffles
Into my warmth. Curling his tale and face into my lap.
My brain won’t switch off.
So I guess my routine begins when I
Try to force a dream.
A dream that’s as vivid in my mind as
The view from my window.
Brightly coloured and noisy.
I’m on a main road.
I’ll focus on the dream until I don’t any more.
And then the light streams in and I wake
Awkwadly twisted
Around the ginger boy who doesn’t seem to have moved.
He purrs as I wake and stretches.
I stretch too.
