Procrastination

I’m watching

As this life is brought to a boil.

 

Relief found in pockets of

My back against a wall,

For the five minutes I allow myself:

Staring off,

Playing with eye floaters

Against the back drop of

A pale blue sky,

Like a glitter globe;

Watching it turn into a glare

In a matter of hours,

Slowly revealing an image of me.

Ear buds blasting a vague semblance of

“Here with me” (the White Noise alt. version),

Reluctant to open books for

What I’ve been waiting my whole life to study

And reluctant to quit now

Because I hadn’t done enough.

 

I just want to play the drums

Or maybe find the time to learn guitar:

Something that I can do in my apartment,

You know?

 

“Don’t think about…”

I’ll take five more –

Of staring off.

Just until this song ends.

Compartment

I am the ebony joy,

A blackberry soaking in a wine glass

Or a coat of varnish,

An embrace eternal

And entombing.

 

Either way, I’m quite dense from years of pressure,

Cooked and processed.

It’s a wonder my blood flows at all

As a ladder bearer,

Son of ladder.

 

I equal my outside

As little as possible

To maintain potential

For fear of losing me.

 

I am a collective of gradient crossing barrier

And am frightened of rejection by the great wave

As it cracks

And turns into a receeding shoreline

To crash

And recede…

An apology.