this is five ten when i tell myself a sordid story i'd forgotten about because i'd forced myself to forget about
five fifteen when i say my own name aloud just to see if i'd respond
five thirty i'll bend down a blind and squint to what i'll harass a creepy morning
and then i'll remember that i'm the creepy morning behind the blinds, peering out
i won't sleep until i hear another person wake up
because nothing puts me to sleep like the sound of someone else resuming awake
