When Every Night’s the Longest Night of the Year



They say tonight’s 
the longest night of the year. 
But I’ve already had at least 
a dozen dozens longer since January. 
That makes this the year’s
shortest day, too. But days, 
no matter how long, go by 
in just a blink when you live 
from one sleepless night to the next.
Each day’s just another little box 
full of meds, each with a lid 
wearing a 3-letter signifier 
that it’s WED or SUN, which is
the one where I refill them for another 
seven blinks without a thought and 
seven more dead-bodied stares while
my mind’s milling around
about you and them and sometimes me. 
That’s when I compose my best work - 
the stuff that never gets written. 
But actually, that best’s more like like 
a drunk’s singing voice or his irresistible charm. 
Except a drunk’ll fall asleep at some point. 

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