If it's just before noon
and I'm still lounging under the covers
or dreaming of some twisted, alternate me
it's unlikely I'll discover anything
worth waking up for.
If I had awakened
many hours beforehand
slid open my window
breathed naked, innocent
sipped steeping tea in the half light
gazed with longing as the night sky
those heavy thoughts,
that often surround me
might just be
by the morning breeze.
Or strewn across my bed,
like discarded clothing that
hot smooth hands
pulled over my head...
"The point being, I don't think anyone has started anything for lunch yet," the boss's second son moped (or possibly pleaded), sending his wide, brown eyes searching for sympathy in the faces of his colleagues. ...They weren't exactly the most obvious types to look for help for (unless something criminal(more) was concerned - that would be another story), but since Ernano generally left the haphazard raising of his younger child to his men, they were the only ones the boy could ask.
"It's still before noon, isn't it?" Tibault asked. He felt awkward under the boy's earnest gaze. A few of his colleagues shrugged, unknowing, leaving Tibault to pull out his pocket watch to check the time. "...Well, it's still a little before noon," he conceded.
"Two minutes," his hit-man partner, John, rolled his eyes.
"Somebody make this kid a sandwich," someone groaned.
"This is why we need to change the rules to let women into the gang," Tibault remarked. It wasn't immediately obvious whether or not he was serious. He had a reputation for being a bit strange. "That way we'd have someone around who could make a decent sandwich."
"You're so sexist," John chided him, "I'm sure someone around here can cook the kid something. I mean, we're all bachelors, aren't we? We've gotta be eating somehow."
"I think half these guys live with their mothers," Tibault fired back.
"You watch your mouth, Tib. That kind of stuff's what got you thrown out of the gang the first time," Madar scolded him.
"I wasn't thrown out- I quit!" Tibault insisted, crossing his arms.
"Please...will you stop fighting about it and just feed me?" the scrawny boy begged, but his request remained generally unheard. Only John Sawyer responded to him with a smile and a nod.(less)
Just before noon on a Sunday.
I should be asleep.
What happened last night?
I try with all my might
(more) On my memory...
But the darkness, the abyss, the void of last night refuses to release its hallowed secrets to me..
I drank too much, my head hurts..
It feels like fireflies are pounding the inside of my skull
Trying to escape or at least to get some light,
for the bioluminecense from their bodies have faded.
Do you know why fireflies create light?
Creating light is a difficult thing to do, especially in such a dark, dark world.
But fireflies bioluminece in order to attract a mate.
Sad to think that the lightning bugs in my head have long since given up...
Though I'm sure that the bugs in my heart are still lit and seeking love..
Which takes me back to last night...
Apparently I told a girl I barely know that I love her.
I don't remember that...
Apparently I broke a wooden beam and fell and everyone laughed..
I don't remember that...
Apparently I had a long conversation on a driveway about myself...
I don't REMEMBER that...... What did i say? What does she know about me? Does she know more about me than I know about myself...?
What a scary thought...
Maybe that is why all the memories are gone
Because come the dawn
I would have wanted every action to be withdrawn,
and finally foregone...
Maybe its a defense mechanism
My brains self-altruism
Which really isn't altruism at all...
Or maybe its just the liquor, simple and plain
That keeps me from knowing my own pain
That contains and constrains
Last night so that i can be sane...
I guess I'll just have to abstain....