Mrs. Lee, who lives next door, is knocking on the door.
To the mic noise that crossed the wall all night
even the knocking sounds feel sharp.
To work that doesn’t go well
my self-esteem keeps sinking, and I’ve dug a tunnel down to basement 5.
Far from the Eiffel Tower, I’m under a fluorescent light.
I mutter to myself, 'What can you do?'
Give me any idea at all.
I keep putting off sleep day and night and keep working.
Pouring in coffee that raises my heart rate
Time, like,
while still not adjusted to the time difference
flows like I’m living in Paris, France.
Even without taking a long flight,
my clock changes to French time.
The lights in my studio
will never go out, it’s On & on.
I dream with my eyes open.
Ha... dizzying.
Oh, ah! I’ve got it.
