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


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