Oh, That Time Poem by Benjamin Feliciano

Today I breathed in fresh air.
Not tobacco smoke or pungent marijuana,
But fresh air.
And as I sat and thought to myself
About time and how I pass it,
Wasting away on video games and Youtube
And work...
I stopped to inhale that sweet Colorado taste.
How do I find time to write
When I hardly find time to think?
Should I write without thought
Or think with no ink?
So many thoughts lost to alarm clocks
And music that does naught but block
My mind from ideas gone at last
From inception to confession.
If I want to be my best in
This life, this one shot
I have got to create something
I can think up without the aid of pot.
But my mind is interrupted,
My rhythm is corrupted
And the minutiae of frustrations
Dare an eruption.
Now I sit awake in front of white paper,
4: 30 A.M. and not near nodding off;
Trying not to wake her
With my hacking smoker's cough.
Light up and reread.
I know not what I want
And only what I think I need.
Time to recede.