Sitting in darkness,
just feeling the dark keyboard,
and writing want comes.
The silly questions,
that rise in the dark nightime,
lit with a full moon.
To run far away,
just go somewhere so distant,
somewhere I could hide.
The dragon have gone,
so they would have us all think,
as they watch us still.
Wednesday’s a drain,
mid week and downhill from here,
to a Monday off.
My coffee is hot,
it waiting steaming and hot,
and so it will wait.
How does my mind feel,
like a dull hum and a whine,
like squashed tomatoes.
