I’m pulling an all-nighter as I write this.
Not to write this. This is just a distraction.
A bland way to pass the time

as I reset my circadian rhythm. See,
I run on a 25-hour internal clock.
Every day, I go to bed one hour later

to wake up one hour later.
To be clear, I didn’t choose this.
I was #BornThisWay. As a consequence,

every half-moon or so, I need to reset
my clock, as it’s running slow.
In order to do so, after dinner,

I swallow a handful of Adderall
and feel like the Oracle of Death for 12 hours.
I like to call this feeling supernovaing.

Like a dying star. When you’re running
on empty, but your body is exploding
with energy. And it hurts,

but you’re a machine of success.
So I need something to pass the time
until I implode in T-Mobile 5 hours.

I wonder what I’ll be when I die.
I can only be one of two things:
a Jimmy Neutron star

or a Blackbeard hole. You’d think
you’d rather be a star than a hole.
But lo and be-hole,

the life of a star is dull,
but the life of a hole
is anything but empty. The holes

are the stars of the galaxy.
He’s so mysterious, all
the astronomers swoon.