3x7) I Bury It, So I can Keep Moving

it’s 3am again and my eyes are nailed open  
by my own insomniac dementia  
I mime a cigarette to my lips  
old habits still come to the fore  
when you’ve lost everything except  
except the ability  
to wake drag your carcass  
to work  
because you made a commitment  
you made it and now you have to suffer  
for the art  
I pretend to remember the time my ancestors  
had time to think  
to breathe  
to do anything more than stare  
at blinking cursors and flashing lights  
 
my ADHD loves that light  
it’s iridescent butterflies  
falling from the heavens  
to snatch my attention and drown  
it  
in a sea of soft porn  
hard porn or even just a  
deluge of clips that mean nothing  
enhance nothing  
an hour lost into unblinking stares  
and now I’m scrabbling to find it  
 
all this is just excuses so I don’t have to get up  
drag my aches into a shower that  
you used to join me in  
there’s a barking dog  
a hissing cat  
in the back ground  
patter of rain on tin  
the cursor still blinks  
like an impatient man with a disapproving  
expression  
the way my father used to wait for me to  
conform to his wishes before he lost his temper  
and I lost consciousness  
later I’d lay awake in terror trying not to piss the bed  
because he was drunk and I was prey to  
his Hyde-side  
 
I’m struggling with words of nothing  
no one cares  
but there’s solace in the soft glow  
I confess that I wish I had made better decisions  
but I never regret that we met  
that we were  
what I could accept  
but not give  
 
all this to say love is a dirty word  
I need to go to work  
because that’s the easiest way to walk away  
from an obligation  
overshadow it  
with one that seems more important