Sleepy procrastinating poem, produced when challenged to produce a "real" sonnet

ie, following one of the defined sonnet forms (this one is English/Shakespearian: iambic pentameter in ababcdcdefefgg). Yes, I should be studying or sleeping. Probably the latter. Sometimes I need to do stuff like this to work out some crapola in my head. No big mystery what the crapola is in this little sonnet. Plus I'm PMSed, so I extra-need to work out the crapola.

The actual sonnet idea came from correspondence with a high school friend I got back in touch with on myspace, who was asking about my couple of "fake sonnets."


(working title: why you should not email me any more, you stinky loser)

i'll never walk that road again with you:
the sleepy days, the smoky glass-eyed nights,
you, laughing at the dances i would do,
me, waking up at three to hit the lights.

i changed my number months after i left
(the kind of thing most girls do right away)--
i pictured you, alone, unfed, bereft,
cold, dialing dead lines day by doped-up day--

i was the rat jumping the sinking ship;
not drowned, i don't regret taking the leap.
but that day, all i wanted was to slip
my whole bright life back in your fucked-up keep.

now dry and tall and rich in peace of mind,
someday i'll leave you all the way behind.