6:46

one strip
of my allnight face
grows warm,
band of early morning sun
through cheap wooden slats,
fly buzzes in the rill
of my window sill.

pristine desk
thanks to a warm plate,
inviting lines,
a hair dryer,
not so pretentious
5 buck note.

green smoke drifts
curls through this sunny
no sleep room, down the hall
spent man
lies in the bedsheets,
skull tattooed shoulder
bare in the breeze of a pedestal fan.

dont think
im ever one thing.
angry shell,
soft boiled egg.
passive, aggressive
non-event.

one-click tilt in this halo
always out of double As
always loved blue or black
at 1am, nothing else felt right
always felt white hot lead
when morning came around.

but this morning ive warmed
to these beige walls
im always gonna do something with,
hang something on,
dappled with bright yellow lines,
fingerprint of 6:46

i hear squabbling
lorikeets bounce
on pink and orange grevilleas,
hang upside down,
thin branch bows lightly
to their pneumatic bones.