That wonderful world
Where we drift and float
Conscientious of the soundness
The proud, the many
The many, unlike you or me
Instead, we stir
Rebounding off walls
Like echoes in a canyon
We pace back and forth
Wearing out carpets
Putting hole in our socks
Any clock become the enemy
Laughing directly at us
Mocking us
Teasing us
Our beds beg to us
Reminding us of what we haven’t
But what we wish we did
A vicious cycle
So we sit
In the dark of night
Neither one talking
We smoke
Cigarette after cigarette
Mixing drinks
Tearing labels off of the old bottles
Until we are ready to give up
Give in, because we can’t take it
Not anymore
The first signs of light
And the eyes of the beast grow heavy
We slump off, beaten
But with the thoughts of tiny victories
We won, is what we think
As we slam, face down
Into the pillows
Only to rise, again
In a few short hours
© Dicky J Loweman 2014