Power Nap (Day 7)

(Day 7 of National Poetry Writing Month.)

Set a timer, Siri.

Ten minutes 

is all I need.

A short nap

to re-energize

and re-vitalize,

clear my head

so I can


with my wife and kids

without sarcasm

and cruelty, 

so this

veil of irritation

is lifted

before I 


before I 

make someone cry.

I don’t want to be

an asshole remembered 

in therapy

by adult children

who never call

or visit

except in 

sweat-soaked dreams

their spouses 

rouse them from

with frantic shakes

only to ask

Was it your father again?

knowing full well

the answer

is yes

and promising

to dance

on my grave

as soon as

the last spade of dirt

is tossed over me,

joyful that I


am burning in Hell


Shit.  Really?

Siri, I need ten more minutes.



About semiblind

Bringing you stark existentialism since 1981.
This entry was posted in anger, best-laid plans, clusterfuck, family, fear, NaPoWriMo, people, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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