The Birth of Ideas (+ hours 3 & 4)

The birth of ideas
Big ones, as it were
"Love", faulty condoms,
And the birth of an infant

8 AM
Breath, a panic breath
Misplaced ejaculation
Weathered stipulation
Of whether I'm awake
Blame, my tattered blame
A life I'd long forgotten
She came to haunt my nightmares
And resurrect my shame
Over, bubbled over
Like waves on freezing shores
Pornographic reruns
Like scratching swollen sores

9 AM
Heavy eyes, blinking clocks
Power's out, no one's home
How the minutes slowly turn
And seem like much to long
Rain pelts through my window
Soft to wet my feet
Through my sophomore sheets
To bedbugs down below
I don't mind the Dresden drizzle
Or the London fog
Not even sleepy bags, but
I really need to pee