November 8, 2011
Poetry Scribble: Sleep Schedule Poetry!
Yep, love poetry. Here we go.
Work Schedules
For BrerA vague feeling of neglect
injected through asthma inhaler
as another window passes
and I’m stuck, employed.
Our respective masters
walk in different lights,
yours, artificial,
mine a burning fireball
of incandescent gas
I can’t hold in the sky for you
no matter how many oven mitts I buy.Thus, another day cycle gone
with no you in sight
and I cling to others, available.
We kiss. We use.
And I don’t think of you
while I’m panting and moaning,
short of breath,
lungs failing to function as prescribed,
until I can finally breathe in
with the thought of you working.
I know you don’t mind,
doing the same while I earn,
and I shouldn’t feel bad.But I do.
You could have watched.
You could have joined in.
You could have been part
of my life.Physically satisfied,
I give in,
unsatisfied
without you,
knowing tomorrow
I’ll miss you again.