Late Nights

Coffee eyes and watery smiles
Marked by scattered papers that fill
The sweat stained air, pungent like the
Deadline soon approaching
Quick, nervous eyes dart to the clock
Why does it move so fast?
What is it?
Time of course.
Focus!
Clammy fingers racing over sqeaky keyboard
Spine and neck trapped by dull throbs of pain
You've been sitting there too long, she says
I know, you say, but you have to keep going
Keep working as the witching hour begins
And the rats scuttle beneath the floorboards and mock
Your poor sense of time management
Because the sun is now rising
And all you have is a mediocre essay
And a sleepy spirit