Sometime after 3 AM, between Thursday and Friday, 2010-ish
Those few extra beers I had now prevent me from sleeping
I felt it; this sudden urge, this need, this calling
I wanted to start, to stop
To begin and to end
Like I knew I was moving, yet not really going anywhere
I was adrift in the river of my life

I have since had many more nights to think about it,
Many more beers to drink about it
As I slowly begin to spite the things that own me.
And the sentiment prevails.
At this point it is practically taunting;
It is asking me to become me
To hold the promises I made to myself 

Tempus fugit, big guy.

.

.

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*True story. This idea is also shared on bonsvivants.org, an upcoming (casual) poetry project.