Procrastination

It's 1 am and time for more caffeine
To keep me conscious for my evening chore.
Procrastination has become routine
But now there's work that I cannot ignore.
I think aloud, "This won't be such a bore,"
And tell myself I have nowhere to run.
This sentiment is followed by a snore
And all this time my work still isn't done.

I wake up, and think it's time to clean
(Under these papers there HAS to be a floor,)
When Doug comes in, looking quite serene
For someone who'd had no sleep the night before.
He grins and gladly slouches against the door
To keep from falling over. Stress has begun
To pound us gently with its two-by-four
And all this time my work still isn't done.

Then Beth comes in, whom I haven't seen
For hours. She crumples on the bed to pour
Out silly tales of orange people between
Branches in campside trees. She pauses for
A bit, with an angry smile to underscore
Her sadness, then says she wants to be a nun
Because she thinks Charles left her for a whore.
All this time my work still isn't done

I wish I had more time to listen. The more
I hear the more I want to hear. It's fun,
But every story always needs an encore
So all this time my work still isn't done.