working in the lab

[amuse]

i'd always looked forward
to the night
to you naked
watching me
pout my arms
as they curved
toward your
burning thighs

but tonight
i've got
a paper
to write.

her earplugs are
loud as memory
we once laughed
and dreamed
made love to these songs

my stomach
churns, it
wraps up pain
pours
it into my glands,
into my pores
up my nose
and down my bladder
becomes hard rocks
promises death
by kidney failure or
stage 4 cancer
my stomach
can "do anything
tonight," it tells me.

i don't have a night
tonight
none left when
i'm asleep and
i can escape
by disappearing into
the alleys of
my dreams
no, tonight...
tonight

i see nothing but
my naked
hands typing
naked words
while cell phones
and i-m's
transport hearts
back and forth
all around me -
invisible moths
flitting, ecstatic,
ignoring me.
and the night lies;
it retracts its
comfort.

i shouldn't grieve;
it is, after all,
the nature of the night.



*just maudlin, you all can ignore this. must be yucchy reading the same theme over and over!

[mono]

*just maudlin, you all can ignore this. must be yucchy reading the same theme over and over!
Do not say that, silly amuse! :p You know better, and ought to feel much more confident with your work.
Strange that you wrote this so recently, as I felt in the dread of toiling over studying and school paperwork last night too, wishing for something to appear that would comfortably tell me: "just put it aside, this sounds more important." Needless to say, nothing came up, and I slowly finished my work.

Anyway, about the poem, this seems one written quite a bit more casually than your other ones, which never seems a bad thing. I love the specifics you added:

watching me
pout my arms
as they curved
toward your
burning thighs
and the bonus of the fourth strophe that lets the reader peek into your distractions:

my stomach
churns, it
wraps up pain
pours
it into my glands,
into my pores
up my nose
and down my bladder
becomes hard rocks
promises death
by kidney failure or
stage 4 cancer
my stomach
can "do anything
tonight," it tells me.
Without actually saying it, you communicate such an infectious mood that everyone can relate to - the immense inconvenience of having to work while wanting to play, so to speak; and, surely, "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Sometimes, however, the will succumbs submissively to its obligations, leaving behind the desires. :(