The face of the clock says it's time to get a job <br />but I'm far too busy nonconforming to each of your highest <br />standards and looking for a change of scenery to <br />even open all of that fucking mail. <br />The late nights help me see everything <br />except <br />the point when we're done preparing, tying our shoes— <br />it's your fault we're too tired to fall out of bed <br />and agitated far beyond the point of sleep— <br /> <br />sleep is leaving me. Alone, I mean. <br /> <br />cold sweats on 3 a.m. couches in front of phone sex <br />and Greeley State College leave me in a <br />panicked state of inebriation, too depressed to watch anymore <br />and missing sleep. <br />All of you and your false gratitude make me empty. <br />Maybe I should get out of this gutter and get drunker, <br />we're more ambitious that way and we've taken to sleeping <br />on loveseats, feigning sobriety and spritzing febreeze <br />because it gets the noise out. <br />Where would we be without these budding bushes? <br />and some time to finally burn the candle at both ends? <br /> <br />I'd love to come to your weekly swap-meet, but gas <br />is too, too expensive and I'm trying not to catch up on <br />all the work we do. <br />Now this is where I (we?) guffaw cynically and act <br />like I'm (we're?) not alone in my (our?) insomnia<br /><br />Casey Rock<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-sleeping-sweating/
