When will I stop punching the clock?
Haven’t worked on the book since July.
So technically it is not every day.
I lie consecutively…footnoting the truth, nah.
The phosphenes are the only art made.
Daily to remind me I ain’t shit.
When will I stop punching the clock?
To affairs organized for others, excluding me.
I get paid to remain a have-not.
I have knots in my stomach everybody!
That tug me whenever I have ideas.
Of my own, on my own watch.
Why haven’t I stopped punching the clock?
Those “good nights” I say to customers.
Aren’t genuine because I can’t afford them myself.
The last time I had a good night.
I dreamed of my book on the big screen.
Second chapter unfolding in front of me.
It didn’t last long because your dreams aren’t supposed to.
I haven’t punched the clock since then.
Rubbing my eyes to stop the illusions.
Luminous floating stars, zigzags, swirls, spirals, and squiggles keep me company.
I will die, can’t forget to live.
The picayune ones breathe better than the gourmands who starve them daily.
I’m inspired now, starving to start again.
To punch the clock everyday I write the book as Elvis Costello said.