In the Orange

Poem

Photo by Jefferson Santos on Unsplash

five in a
spring morning
and I barely
exist after,
you know,
the night
with smoke birds
flying in a 
sky of dread
and work and no life
just before the
rehearsal of
death;
then there is 
the orange
slowly
taking over the
sky indicating
and showing
way to the
blues of life
–making 
the rebel
silent and 
relieving
the suffering
of the human
experience
that I'm forced
to go through
without a
consent