Poetry

That May Be, 10 (131.)

I might make my best plans
when it’s 3 in the afternoon
and I believe I can fall asleep before midnight.
As the night wears on,
and the moon grins wider,
I remember
I’m adept at fooling myself.
The rough schedule,
go to bed around 11
and wake up at 7
to start work around 8,
it’s harder to follow than I like to admit.
I’ll probably
stay up until 1 in the morning
and sleep until 8,
log into my work computer from home
(just a little late),
then do my best to stay on task all day.
Strange, unstructured times,
and I’ve never been good with routines.
Please, let me just
rest enough
to be a decent me.

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