They tell me not to drink coffee in the afternoons

But, oh well, here we are. It is
Dark, dark, and the rattling of
persistent appliances

Is music to ears

For all the chaos of mornings and peak-energy afternoons
There is something I respect
In this silent plodding of human owls

Plod, plod, nobody says plod anymore (at least not in the mornings)

Or the knowledge that the world is never truly completely asleep
Hi-yo Reddit away

This is the ultimate cheat, second wind
A third chance to correct the day

Steer it back into meaning:
Oh, so that’s what this means!

The masks we wear
Sluggish, late to the party (we laugh like we give a rat’s ass)
Sure, we accept judgments

With the loveliest of smirks

Except when midnight strikes
SHHHH HERE IT COMES

Quick, we are awake

Nothing else matters

Not you.

Not. You.

When else should golden ideas appear
But when everyone else’s eyes are shut
Recuperating from an evil day

When else should inspiration strike
But when there is so few to watch

When else should our blood race
But at the unapologetic rebellion of
A busy hand

The world is sleeping!
Here is where wars are won!

These moments when sleeping feels
Like you’re missing out

On a universe itching to be born

I can’t hear myself in the mornings anymore

I can’t breathe in the mornings anymore

Night, night, oh pretty night

Tra-lala let us hold hands while singing angry songs