Time does not repeat

“Bugger, bugger, bugger.” I have uttered
this phrase in the manner of Hugh Grant too
long now. I pull my mind from the gutter
and lapse into a state where I see blue,
my nights spent wide awake alone in bed
I cannot sleep, because I know I should.
Too many thoughts are racing through my head;
an avalanche of maybes, words I could
have said to make my true mind known to you
perhaps then I should feel as if I tried,
yet failed, rather than this painful review,
which makes me wish either that I might die
before I wake, or shall rise to the light
of wrongs angels corrected overnight.