tired

be quiet.
it's 9:30 and primal therapy is on my mind
as I rewind through the last 24 hours
I'm feeling swamped like Jack Bauer but at least he gets to carry a gun, tell people what to do and save the world.
it's 9:40 now
just the sound of me, my keyboard clicking, and broad street humming along,
like a song created by concrete acoustics and rubber percussion
with a modern twist of irregular rhythm
one, two
get ready for it and...
quiet, because
it's 9:46 and I am nearly ready to marinate myself for the night,
that is, sleep
I keep thinking: if someone forgets to wake up my alarm, would that be such a bad thing?
well,
maybe.
9:51 now and I'm five minutes closer to seeing the morning sun along route 280.
soon broad street will wake up,
wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up

be quiet,
I'm already gone.