Poems...

It didn't even fade away. This time – it's utter nonsense. =)

Whoever doesn't sleep on a Sunday morning,
Whoever jumps up at dawn,
Whoever had dynamite placed under their pillow at night,
They have a bad head,
Throwing their pillow away,
Turning their back to the sky,
They gather their skeleton...
Ghosts of dirty streets fly into their windows,
After Friday's revelry,
Unable to sleep properly...
The brain simmers a little,
The network of neurons rustles,
It whistles and releases steam –
It's time to make some tea...
The eye is a little out of place –
It's tired after the whole week,
The poor thing worked hard,
Maybe it's better without it?...
And the pillow was still lying there,
Slowly bleeding,
Delighting in inattention,
Enjoying the emptiness...
But it was interrupted, so brazenly,
Tearing apart the balls of thoughts,
With a wild squeal and tap dance,
With a quiet knock on consciousness,
With a predatory tinny grin,
A round pink alarm clock...