Oversleeping
And now we panic,
because it’s five past nine
and I overslept
and need to go back in time
to get to work alright,
so I’d better get up
and get going.
I knew it was wrong
when I was feeling alright,
with a bright light shining
through the bedroom window;
you see
sometimes I can’t get to sleep
until five o’clock in the morning,
and it’s almost a warning
that I work too hard.
Sometimes I get out of bed
and walk into the kitchen,
raid the fridges and eat something
then go back to sleep,
and then I don’t remember
in the morning,
so I guess it was me
who turned my alarm off.
It reminds me of Charles Bukowski
drinking and whoring
and writing lines like,
“Never get out of bed
before noon.”
I’m up before noon alright,
but I was an hour late to work
and so now I don’t get
a lunch break.
I don’t mean to be disrespectful
or to cause trouble in the workplace
but I can’t sleep like other people;
my mind churns
and rebels against stagnation,
so when I’m lying in bed
I’m just a talking head,
a little empty.
What do I care?
I never had a sense of timing
anyway,
which is weird
because I pretend to be
a musician.
And now we stop panicking,
because it’s half past one
and I stopped working
for a second
for a cigarette.
