Odds

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My mind and my brain are forever at odds
Like finicky children sitting in the corner
Of a hideous room painted canary yellow.
While circadian rhythm dictates sleep
My thoughts are on the figures of a TV screen
Activating suprachiasmatic nuclei
the way a shot of vodka does my nerves.

Twenty five hours reduced to twenty four
but I could have used those extra sixty
minutes thinking about absolutely
nothing.
And it would make a whole
lot of difference when the first hour
comes rolling around at the sound
of a muffled alarm
Rousing sleepy eyes…
But bright eyes.
Chances are the monotony
Will be infinitesiminally bearable.

I’ll take those odds any day.

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3 thoughts on “Odds”

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