Thing a Week 8: Posted in the 51st minute of the 11th hour (eastern standard time)

I have a theory, that if you go to bed an hour later than you normally do, you will feel like a zombie. But, if you go to bed say, EIGHT hours later than you normally do, and get barely enough sleep to maintain consciousness, then you end up being so tired that you don't even realize you're operating at less than subsistence level, and you end up feeling nothing so much as a warm fuzzy feeling and general goodwill to all men. I believe that this is because your body looks at the shape it's in, and then says "Well, it's basically shot. We aren't going to be able to do anything to this heap without several hours of solid sleep, so until then let's just double endorphin production, shift to the lowest gear, and cruise". And so (in theory) I'll feel fantastic until my body gets the chance to recuperate. In practice, whenever I try to pull this off I become a shambling hulk that grumbles blearily at people until it can go back to bed. I also tend to trying to write downer poetry. I don't know why, it just pops out. The end result of this is one piece that I wrote yesterday, that I think is kind of funny, and one piece that doesn't rhyme at all really, and doesn't have a particularly unified meter either, but feels like poetry to me. Call it poetresque.
Anyway, here is this weeks OFFICIAL post.

Someday, I will go out to a
field, full of dead grass and old memories
left over from winter
And I will lie down
on top of an abandoned voles nest
and squint at a sky made entirely from
surprisingly bright variations on the on the color
gray.
I will watch storm clouds form and fail
to be awed by their glory
I will squint harder when the raindrops come
and think of how their acidity could
upset my PH balance
In another 3 months,
It will be too muggy to enjoy nature.