BLUE COUP D’ETAT

(more old thoughts, random and brief but not from Tokyo)

History rhymes and now we’re recording it.
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Somehow feel as though meant to love, to be in love, to make love, to be loved and every moment outside is dead time, purgatory, waiting. But I forget and live, work, occupy myself and move with the seasons, then the pain of realization.
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Sleep calls warm and inviting but still I struggle and blink out of habit like an exuberant child twisting and turning becoming petulant and disagreeable as the eye lids droop and all breath is yawning and the hours slip away inperceptably and I sleep late, feel late, am late, then work late to compensate.