5:35 AM

Posted: April 29, 2010 in Poetry
Tags:

Change to the Capital Slam Semi-Final line-up. One poet decided to drop out (and no, it is not who you think it is) so now D-Lightfull will be competing!

CONTEXT: October, 2009

I used to think I suffered from depression, but I later dealt with someone with REAL depression so now I know better.

No, what I suffer from is the blues.

The problem is that having a cute name for it makes it seem trivial, and it sure isn’t. It isn’t crippling (like actual depression) but it sure changes the way you look at the world and how you enjoy the things around you.

This poem is about that.

It is a true poem, in that I started writing it when I woke up one morning, looked a the clock and saw 5:35, despite being exhausted and the alarm being set for 6. Stress was getting to me and even though everything was manageable, it was really getting me down.

This isn’t unusual for me, but I haven’t really learned how to deal with it, other than plow through.

It is happening now, by the way. Certain stresses are weighing me down.

Anyway, while I lay there that morning, I started writing this poem. By the time I got to work it was pretty much done.

Oh, the ‘So-Rusty-Doesn’t-Die-Machine’ is called a CPAP. It deals with my severe sleep apnea.

    5:35 AM

The glow from the digital
Alarm clock makes the numbers
Hang there like a mocking message
From the haze of another morning of
Rush of to work quotidian practice
After another night of stubborn
Refusal to accept the reality
Of sleep requirements.
The hum from the
‘So-Rusty-Doesn’t-Die-Machine’
Regulates and stabilizes,
A workhorse become integrated
Life requirement like
Air, food, water and art.
But the clock mocks me
By broadcasting a string of
Numbers, both arbitrary and
Circumspect as it gives us a
Common frame of reference.
5:35 AM
A full half hour before the CBC
Kicks me in the ribs
And forces me to face another day
Of ordered manipulation.

I am tired yet sleep eludes me.
My brain’s refusal to lapse into a
Void of unremembered dream-state
Is like an admonishment
Against my unwillingness to chage the
State of my gait.
I stare at the numbers and
Consider turning off the alarm to
See if anyone notices when I
Don’t show up at work.
But those business processes
Aren’t going to model themselves
And somebody’s… got… to… do it.
I guess.

I remember sitting in the Guidence Counsellor’s
Office in high school, trying out a new
Computer program
That told you what you should
Do with your life.
I was announced as a future
Electrocephalacardiogram operator.
It seemed to me that everyone
Should get that result,
Because why would anyone say
At the age of 13, that they weren’t good enough
Or that they couldn’t handle the
Education requirements
But the devil of inadequacy
Hooks in early.
I don’t recall what questions
Little blue asked me, nor did
I understand that the program
Was no different than a
Choose-your-own-adventure
Themed to the biggest adventure
You could have.
But I DO know that it never
Asked me what I wanted to
Accomplish, in measurements other than
Dollars or capitalistic prestige.
It never asked me what I wanted to
Leave behind or if I wanted to matter.
To anyone.

The clock crawls inexerobly towards
The time when I will pull myself
Up on my aching knees that always
Seem a little better on the weekends.
A pain that is decades old but
Both self-inflicted and
Self-fulfilling as a general malaise
Is false-sated by another little
Snack to break up the
Workday.
Struggling into the shower to
Rouse myself enough to function
In a world that revolves around,
Oblivious to any reality outside of
Its own.
But I will do it, again and again
Looking for that bi-weekly grant
That forces the gov to support the
Arts, despite their worst intentions.

The clock laughs out loud and I feel
Ruthanne stir behind me
As I turn off the radio and
Remember that I have a show tonight.
I smile, just a little, and wonder
Who will change the world today.

““““““““““

Next is a poem about… well, a lot of things.

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Comments
  1. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Rusty Priske. Rusty Priske said: #rustythepoet 5:35 AM https://rustythepoet.wordpress.com/2010/04/29/535-am/ […]

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