Poetry

Litanies Against Dying, 11 (193.)

When the comic books are all gone
and the novels are all read,
and the short-story collections are over
because through them I sped,
I’ll turn to the internet and/or
video games
to keep me company on the long night’s
journey into morning.

I tell myself every day
that I’ll wake up earlier tomorrow, I’ll
roust myself from bed
before noon this time, I’ve got to –
but those thoughts just make me
push the snooze button again and again.

I think of the hard reset, the weird push
to get up early, even if I stayed up late,
if I could only
force myself to be okay
with four or five hours of sleep.
It makes my brain hurt.
By the end of such a day, my eyes
ache for sleep.
Yet I press on ’til morning, with too many
pastimes for my own good.

So maybe it’s fine
that I’ve run out of some things.
The video games will never end,
they take hours and hours –
but it’s easier for me to save the game
and quit
than it is to close a book and rest.

This weekend, this is it.
I’m doing the hard reset.
Tomorrow, no matter what time I go to bed tonight,
I’m leaving my bed before noon.
Let’s say 11 o’clock.
Nah, screw it, let’s go for 10.
So on Monday, I might be able to
hop out of bed by 9
and get to work in the “morning.”
As long as I’m there before noon, I think
my colleagues will be
pleasantly surprised.

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