You look like my grandma when she’s angry,
or perhaps only the mug conjures the image.
Am I killing neurons?
Are you, my friend,
murdering me gradually?
But thank you, really!
Feels like my eyelids are defying gravity
even at this hour; my mind
is still a thousand things but sluggish;
my body, still stuck in this chair
and not dragging me to bed.
I poured one last friend tonight,
and bathed him, and I may be drowning
in caffeine right now and yes, stop.
I’ll be missing bed tonight.