i– untitled work-in-progress poem

I just need some time to

rest my weary bones

waking up at the end of a rough night

I would rather stay at home


I wake up and find too many

books upon the floor,

notes to take and life to scrape

I will never find the door.


I just need five minutes to

rest my weary bones

Then i will wake up and jump into

gear and into my unknown


I wake up and too many things

left undone last night, unsaid

nothing here when the Robin sings,

in the morning I am dead.



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