Who dwell between hell and
Pass our days in trembling pain
And our nights in pursuit
Of relief from the purgatory.

I howl,
Til morning’s burning eye.
I ache, to the dawning glass
And then I ache more
Awaiting a placid moment
For which
I have failed

I watch,
As some move on
To peace
And others seek–
Blowing gunpowder
Nightmares through
To morning.

Who inhabit an unknown
Pass our days with dreams
And our nights breaking
The dull monotony of comfort.

To the One Job I Ever Quit

“Fuck sleep.”
I said, as I poured another dram.
At 7 am I’ll roll onto my feet,
stumbling for awareness
hands feeling for my glasses
that won’t clear the sting–
of morning.
Tomorrow, I sip,
I am professional antagonist.
I harass, annoy, even frighten.
No, I am not a cop,
I am a marketer.
And I hate me too.

Farewell, midnight’s morals.
Farewell, dignity.
I am a broken man,
And work is all I need.