i wish that i was not awake
and up to see this time of night,
and that i wasn’t wondering
‘how many rounds left in this fight’?

if i could live out past the stretch
between the towns of ache and harm
i’d buy a hammock, and a book,
and hydroponic farm,

and concentrate the love i feel
for you, for them, for pity’s sake,
and plant out past the edge of dreams
and reap my harvest
not awake