Scheduled

Two hours forward, eighteen back.

I dance around the schedule,

It’s compromise I lack.

Sixty more clicks on the keyboard.

I’m never done with counting

And putting down a petty sword.

When the dawn arrives, I fidget,

I spin around in my seat.

My moral code’s missing a digit.

And the coffee yawns back at me

When I greet it the next morning,

Hoping to unlock misery’s mystery.