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Limbs tingling and twitching, eyes
just a little too wide
as the familiar chemical takes its course.
Corrosive and sticky, like lukewarm acid,
Mountain Dew Code Red pools in a cavity.
Its cheery cherry flavor makes a late-night toast
to all my future friends
in the dental industry.
Oh, this is an ode to caffeine!
That invisible conductor of late nights,
speeding up the tempo
of fingers drumming and feet tapping
to the quiet droning of electronics,
of thoughts racing endlessly
trying to convince me that, no,
the neighbors would not care to experience
Daft Punk’s greatest hits
with floor-shaking bass, at least
not until breakfast.
The stale glow of the monitor gives in,
drowned out by a harsh wave of sunlight
crashing through the window,
exposing the wreckage left by
another sleepless night:
the noxious smell of an overheated monitor,
and overworked candles
perched haphazardly on bulging stacks of paper,
now sitting in pools of wax that dried
smooth ruby red
all over someone’s homework.
Crushed plastic bottles,
once heavy with sugary soda,
lie all but drained at my bare feet.
Staggering to bed, I feel just as empty.
I have not one ounce
of honorable fight