the jagged edge of dawn in poetry

when you can’t sleep the night
because you couldn’t stop thinking
or you couldn’t stop drinking
that four-forty-five birdsong mocks you
is the ugliest sound in the world
the birdies sing “use-LESS, worth-LESS, love-LESS”
the birdies sing “you couldn’t change this damned world if you tried”
the birdies sing “those who spoke of your potential lied-lied-lied”

there is a world out there with
productive responsible reasons why
people might be rising soon
a constellation of automations
who are already half-done by noon
the goddamned birds are their heralds
the birdies sing “there are bills to pay-pay-pay
there are things to buy, you’re wasting your lives
there’s things to do, you’re wasting your day-day-day”
is what the little sunrise birds say
they are mocking you

the people like us
exiles from respectability
left to the task of observation
analysis and divination
divorced from the meaning of day and night
for reasons accidental or intended rights
those fucking birds wake at four-forty-five
the fucking birds wake up and squeak
to tell us we’re freaks
the birdies sing “freakfreakFREAK FREAK”

the window that you open up
to feel some soothing twilight breeze
now it just lets their song in louder
driving a man right down to his knees
whether or not if it’s truthful
the birdies sing out
“you’re not useful, not useful”

oh please shut all of the windows
oh please draw all of the blinds
I was finally getting sleepy
if you assholes do not mind