Poetry Involving the F-Bomb

It is 5:45 am. I went to bed at 11:00 pm With a splitting headache. After about an hour I fell asleep. 1:00 am rolls around when my phone rings. Its Nick from Texas. He usually doesn't call unless its something important, so I answer. Occasionally he'll be on the phone horsing around with Trevor (from Wisconsin,) and they'll conference me in. This is usually pretty funny, and tonight was no exception, however, I was still half asleep and still slightly pained from the headache. I said goodnight and replaced the ice pack that had fallen off my head when I sleepily rolled over to answer the phone. Another half hour later I realized I was not going to fall back asleep. Should I turn on a movie? (Cartoons make me sleepy.) Should I read? Should I call the boys back?

I have been having trouble with my external hard drive lately and decided if I was going to stay awake I should be productive, and email customer support to try and recover my data. I needed the model and serial number, so I rummage through my storage cupboards to find the manual and install disc. (thirty minutes of searching was pointless. Once I found what I was looking for I discovered the info I needed was on the back of the drive itself.)

Its about 3 am now, and its time to turn in. But I'm just not sleepy. I've been trying to write more, so I run through a drill I've made for myself. When all of a sudden I hear Burrito retching in his cage! Sure enough, he was having another one of his hypoglycemic episodes. I run a shallow cold bath and toss him in. (That woke him up.) He was revived enough to eat finally but I had to sit with him to make him eat a full meal. If he would do this on his own, we wouldn't have fun nights like tonight.

I put him to bed and wrote a few more lines out of sheer frustration. It got me thinking. I've been sick all week, completely unproductive, save for forcing myself to go to work. This is the first real writing I've done since the last song I wrote for the Disney Heart Throb... wait a minute... He hasn't called me back with instruction, feedback, criticism, or even to say hi. I realize my unattainable dream to write for Disney that was looking quite attainable, just became unattainable again... shit... I write a few more lines. Joe wakes up, turns on shower, goes back to his room. (Maybe for a towel?)

I'm feeling old. Not that I'm old yet, but knowing that I 'will be' old. Before I know it. Right around the corner. I have nothing to show for my years. Sure, I have accumulated a lot of stuff my peers don't have, like a car, an apartment, a pet. I'm probably more comfortable than all my friends, and have the potential to continue on so. But... I expected more. A normal life. Finish school go to school finish school get a job get a wife have kids. I finished school got a job tried school much later quit school got several jobs to make ends meet stayed single got a pet.

This was what I wrote:

Ages locking cages of your mind's eternity

Sages stealing wages turning pages purgat'ry

Colder is the shoulder sending chills abound your heart

Bold-er burning smolder scatters ashes 'round the hearth

Baskets just like caskets carried pieces of my past

Facets blowing gaskets leaking present, future vast

Narrow streaming marrow spilling thusly from my bones

Sparrows nip and tear-oway despite which way it grows

Scratching claws dispatching laws that dig so stubbornly

Catching paws with matching jaws that rule and govern me

Stuck in time this fucking lie routines that bleed me dry

Crutching climbing clucking while lips steal and cheat and pry

Turn away or burn away every bridge that you may cross

Learn today and yearn to say the words you shouldn't toss

Curse and swear promise dare but hide beneath your sheets

First you care enough to share with every quilt you meet

I can't do this smiling through this step or stroll or glide

Once he fooled us tying shoeless feet behind our stride

I snap out of my writing frenzy and realize Joe never returned to the shower but left it running. He was sleep walking. He turned the shower on and walked back to bed with his underwear lying sleepily on the bathroom floor... this is the second time he's done that this month.

Its 6:30 am. Burrito woke up took a drink of water and a piece of kibble and went back to sleep...

I think things are gonna be ok. I don't know how, but they will be.