im wide awake

wide eyed and twitching
the coffee got me here
too late
4am rolls by
and im still so wired
i can barely sit still here
its been a long day
and tomorrow will only be longer still
cramming summer in with a shoehorn
to every hour of every day
while still too watching the sun out my window
glued to this computer
searching somehow
for someone
who will freakin take a chance on me

ah changing careers
what a brilliant idea that was
i could have gone
hand picked
though a PhD program
i was ready
they were waiting
and then i ditched
hell i could even have gone on
into forensics
lord knows i have the eye for it
lord knows i have the mind
but i would have been a miserable person
wound up old and tortured and lonely

wait
im lonely
now.

on the one hand
i cant wait for school to start again
daily distractions
momentary assignments to be completed
readings required to sink my mind into
a defined beginning middle and end
to each week
with someone to say
exactly
how i did
its not hearing back that always gets me the worst
what did i do wrong?
what can i do better?

why dont you like me?
i have that obsessive streak
the best way to make me leave
is to pay attention to me
ignore me
and il dog your steps

ive gotten better
been burned enough
to learn to give up
to stop and look a person up and down
realize they really have nothing to give me
if they dont respond
maybe i should be grateful
thank god i dont have the chance to get so wrapped up

christ my fingers are still twitching
moving across the keys here
faster than they should
if this were years past
id be smoking and painting
but theres nothing in my head
no images i want to put down
christ, i dont even know where all my paints are
let alone something to paint on
yet even as i say this
im cataloging whats in my apartment
that board i dragged up from the basement
sitting there on the porch
a few hours yet til dawn
when the light will be ruined
indirect and shifting
as the sun rises

its been a long time
since i got out my brushes
looked at colors and shapes
at the same time
but typing isnt tiring me
and the frenetic pace of my mind
resists setting down into words
perhaps the slow slide of a brush over wood
will calm these jitters.