Midnight Confessions
I’m on the fence. In the middle of the night. The air apparent feels tense. Who’s about to fight?
If I can’t tell one day from the next? Can I imagine how I might?
I can think on it while drinking the contents of my cup.
Why would I get between them? Unless to break them up.
So not the day in and day out kind a guy. I enjoy contrasting flavors. A midnight snack on something delightfully strange I’d savor. But when two find I’m sweet on both. They always sour. And one snack after the next always has beef with me. Leaving a bad taste in the mouth at the midnight hour.
Sure I could go without forgoing the junk food I’d surely devour. Waking and walking around at midnight in the garden of hood and evil. Am I free to smell the flowers? Yes but have no taste you coward!
Now sure the days are getting along better. And I fit into my favorite old sweaters. But I rarely sleep a wink after double sixes tick off a prick. Who’s guaranteed to start some shit. So I’ll have to beat that asshole off with a stick. Before it dawns on me. As my stomachs growls. I won’t get a lick of sleep again.
Dazed having not consumed. I can’t find even ground to level out my mood. I need forty winks to remove the kink in my attitude. Drive a man to drink, smoke, or worse. I could imagine if only I had the strength to think. Or twist up something. Light it up and puff the magic drag in. Rescuing Puff the tragic dead beat dragon from a distended aching stomach. While the appetite suppressor does it’s work. Helped out by some bread and hummus.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZ’s appease the dumbest midnight tease. Little-early
Literally (two fifty three am)