each night I go to bed
a little bit later
I wake up in the morning
forgetting the past

days add up like coins in my pocket
I’m rich with hours
another little bit has passed

I find another hobby
swear to myself I’ll get healthy
another little bit has passed

I think about the news
write about my views
another little bit has passed

when will this world come to an end?
it seems so eternal right now

The moth approached me like a blinking eye,
I was having a cigarette in the garage.
The birds squeaked in the far off darkness,
a menacing sound disrupting the night.

I pressed the moth to give me her reasons
for staying up as late as she did–
She continued to blink, and I awaited her answer,
but nothing came.

The birds heckled the darkness and the darkness
heckled back–the chaos persisted but
remained subdued and the neighbors
stayed in bed.

The children, in their warm beds,
were dreaming of magical places,
and I bemoaned my condition
while having my cigarette in the garage.

I thought of summer, which was expected
to come, maybe tomorrow or never,
I figured I’d be sleeping when it did.
I thought of the hours I’d missed.

The moth returned after awhile,
she blinked her wings again and again,
She seemed to know I had a mild fever,
she seemed to know my memories too.

Let me go, I said. Be off. I want to sleep.