4am

It’s the only sign that I’m alive
the coffee rings and bloodstains
on everything I take with me
slow down, slow down 
and tell me how you manage

How do you wake up at 6am
and not want to burn your town
down, down, to its salted ground
I crept through, soft and thorough
staining the letters and the tables
and I am still no more able
to get up, to do, to be who I am 
on time, to get it done

Slow down.
To a halting pace, I tried and I beat
a few, but I lost the race and now –
it’s 4am again, again, again
with a head full of pills
and a stomach that’s in pain
is it any easier to function?

I wouldn’t know, I’m the one who
leaves the coffee rings and bloodstains

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s