I drank too much,
after I thank too much.
It's the waiting,
that can destroy you
if you think about it.
The consequences, I mean -
inbetween everyday
fruit punch
and pasta crunch.
Hope can
drive you insane,
observing conversation flow
and tone and
evenings on the phone.
He's snoring again,
sucking my thoughts up,
giving them back.
What if I muck it up
this time?
Playdo feeling mattress
is trying to tell me something,
swallowing me up to spit me out in the morning.

As the birds stop to sing,
I look into my eyes
and know this day is mine.