9-2-5
I go to that soundless slumber
once more defeated.
I’ve Mistaken myself
with capabilities.
I’m thrashing
In these cold sweated sheets.
To dreams of me dying
Only to repeat.
I follow my restless Monday nights
With big morning pills
Washed down by stale weekend beer.
I’m in a stupor
Behind my computer.
Flashing people by
With an enter key.
Tuesday is cocktails
Before sunset
And suggested therapy
By friends with a leaflet.
My sleep is tardy before Wednesdays.
I follow suit
When I adjust my tie as a noose.
And feel my coffee stained teeth
Fall out as they rot loose.
Thursdays are for quenching that thirst
And deciding whether to buy the stool
Or the rope first.
Every Friday is black Friday
And the only thing on sale is my memory
For the next 3 days.
I have tinitis on Mondays.
In the shape an alarm-clock.
Im clocking in everyday
But checking out just as often.
Tuesdays are my murder spree
On everyone that looks like me.
Wednesday are the performance review
Thursdays are when I’m furloughed
And Fridays are when I’m fired















