Life slows down
When your eyelids weigh 40 pounds,
And you don’t say the profound things,
The witty things,
That are on the tip of your tongue,
Because all your concentration goes
Into keeping your eyelids
From crashing into your cheekbones
And leaving those bruised-black circles
Under your eyes.
But soon you will look like
A night watchman at noon
Or like Bill Clinton
During the Lewinsky era.
Fatigue: It’s just a matter of time.
Very nice poem. You should write more. It reminds me of Billy Collins. I like it a lot. Good imagery.
Thanks, bro. It was very cathartic as I jotted it down around 1am. Billy Collins, eh. With encouragement like that you force me to keep on writing.
Very timely, said Kim. I laughed and now I groan with sympathy for you.
Even aside from the pathos of real life circumstances, great poem.