Teenage Narcolepsy

I’m falling asleep at
a moment’s notice, so I don’t
suppose it’s meant to be.

Unless you can
convince me this was
all just a dream

(hey, there’s a reason
it makes for a solid cliche),

mid to late afternoon gives me 
little incentive to stay awake.

You found all-nighters in my nihilism and we’d listen to the crickets, holding front-row tickets to compromised dawns, when yawns were our soundtrack and gone was the buzz our post-curfew loves found in Dad’s liquor cabinets

(she made up for
his constant absence by
cleaning him out. )

Yeah, these adolescent callbacks are my bread-and-butter, poking the bear of a nostalgic summer, when we chain smoked inflamed egos and our lungs would not hurt. But the more I was burnt, the more I grew tired of the crazy ex-flames and endless cocaine, and

I’ve no one to blame
but myself.

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