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The Reason Why I Sleep During Primetime:

It's because I've read the news 12 hours ago
just before pulling the covers as the morning light
brings a can opener to my eyelids.

The news is tiring, even when the newsreaders were once my
idols in more idealistic times:
marble-hewn and granite-rooted edifices whose sound
echo from silent streets
to Sierra Madre, the Science City, and Mount Banahaw.

I used to wait with bated breath
and
twitchy fingers
as the spectacle on my screen turns to static.
It stings --
remind me
to never keep the TV on too long, okay?

For nothing is more irritating
than an itch that begs scratching,
whether it's on my scalp, under
my foot, or inside the ear.
Go on, try it yourself.
Run your skin along something rough
like a scrubbing stone, unvarnished wood, concrete
or crumpled-up money
and never stop until you see muscle.

But that's by the by.
The house is at its quietest
at midnight -- the perfect alarm sound.
Still, the headphones stay on,
never letting walls to hear product reviews,
scientific edutainment, and other lies I tell myself.
I continue scribbling, three hours later,
with doodles about cliches and adages,
how to break them
and put them back together
for the lightbulbs to gawk at.