My night time self hates my morning self it's clear as night and day they never did get along.
My night time self stays up too late never sleeps always thinking drinking, plotting, planning, worrying about morning self's mistakes smoking a thousand cigarettes one **** over the line eating chocolate bars at one a.m.
While my morning self an early riser is the one that has to get up go to work always corrects and lectures dedicated to maintaining the structure.
My night time self only thinks about himself uses the last piece of wood won't bother setting up the coffee maker he's so cruel stares into t.v. space muttering about love's he's never had.
While my morning face has to face the clutter of night time disgrace bottles, lights blasting computers running another ***** movie going hello poetry splattered on the walls and another alcohol poisoned Jersey blonde stretched out across the bathroom floor while morning self has to shave and doesn't know her name.
Night time self finally sleeps god rest his soul about the time morning self from his dreams has to rise rudely awakened by talk radio. Morning self has to go out and play the straightened out games while the residue of night time insanity lingers, a film covering morning self's pretense at sanity. Responsible ethical moral always has to pay the bills for you know who.
I once tried to get them together a meeting of these two but it quickly dissolved into a shouting match across the twilight dew never could get them together they were as different as me and me and you and you.
"one **** over the line. . ." Brewer & Shipley, 1970.