Cold.

I am livid
with the Sun
and with the sky
and the perpetual madness  
that aligns when
the two collide.
A catalyst of colour
blinds my eyes;
morning
from my south facing window.
 
You  
and your presumptuous
manner quickly assume  
my mood
is hindered  
by you.
 
You are a cock,
I don't cluck.
Early rising
doesn't suit me.
 
So leave me  
the ground
where the worms,
where the moles,
where the lice linger,
hide and survive.
We mingle without  
bright  
interference.  
 
Your muddy eyes
pin mine  
down
and force them
upwards
with words that  
stir in air
and noise like  
morning dew
and light that burns;  
dusted blue.
 
You fool,
for stepping  
into the dark  
waters.