Midday Blues

At work feeling foolish

Monday hours setting in

When I’m here I think of somewhere else

Almost anywhere far

Maybe I’ll calm down

Maybe I’ll realize flight doesn’t solve all

Winking at a lottery ticket

Ready to call out

Stupid chances

I’ll be in tomorrow.


Rather leave early

Hug my lover tight

Smoke three bowls

Slide over to our bed

Feeling thin

Spread and stressed out

Counting hours impatiently

Half way there

Her face awaits

As my care does as well

Call work tomorrow

Tell them I’ll be in tomorrow’s tomorrow.

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