
sketch: a night in

pouring, pouring, days are boring
creeping and sneaking past
every night
say something once but I can’t get it right
struggle in silence with no end in sight!
sirens all night
so I’m muting my mic
can’t give my friends wrong impressions
bed bug alert doesn’t transfer by sound
pounce on the mute all the same
a little help’s a little much
to ask from drunk and rash
electric sons
of symphonies;
the night is calling
look at me!
a week and a half and a quarter come to a close
melodic symphonic platonic I get confused
and yet it’s collapsing and closing the curtains on
one pomodoro that wasn’t
but could become
so many hours in a night
with a tea
and two thumbs