ethics kill a smirk but fake funny accents will always renew the twinkle

A Short Haiku

Ok.
I'll add in hello terms
strobe light

My boss imparted some wisdom to me today. I woke up at 8:21 a.m.
My shift starts at eight.
I'm never going to be able to keep a real job. I just can't seem to wake up, I said over to my left as I chopped up celery for my tri-weekly ritual of soup making.
He stops and thinks about it for a while. You need to be excited to wake up. You need to have something exciting to wake up for.
Having onion-cutting-dishwasher-boy tell me he likes my haircut isn't exciting? I suppose it might be only heartwarming.
So heartwarming doesn't send a jolt of alertness through my half-dazzled sleep ensnarled self.
I used to be an admirable pro at the discipline of rising by myself early. Oh those yester years I can hardly recall. This was even long after I stopped begging my mom to let me wake up before 7 a.m. This was long after I learned the pure blissful joy and need of sleep.
What was it?
What happened?

It was the minutes turning into seconds and the hours changing from days to minutes.

I have a fascination with tattoos. And I've recently had the idea of hanging out in a tattoo parlor. Maybe it's the whole idea that I'd get one but I know it's too permanent for me. Too pretentious for me, I change and improve and disprove, sin and repent too much. And so now I need to know everything about tattoos and the people who get them.