A Morning Concern

A Morning Concern

Southern skies lit up slowly by the eastern morning 
Slowly dawning and dragging through, drawing true
Wakefulness and yawning head splitting boring
What am I to do now, what am I to when I rise.
Now I awoke through the heaps of trash and human
Jetsam, drowned the night before with me all without
My freedom, but all dying every night in the hazy shade
Of the cold winter Christmas, Xmas with a difference
Now older and not a child, swimming along with the tide,
Sometimes near the shore and sometimes clear of all
Its safety, but always within reach and always within
Its teachings mayhem, never feeling guiltless, 
Always over nothing and always over chaos.