Running on empty,
just the vapours of my mind,
sparking a little.
The clock is ticking,
a rhythm like a sausage,
long thin and tasty.
The passage of time,
flows fast through narrow channels,
that is my daytime.
I didn’t finish, the midnight hour came too soon, and then that was it.
The week is too long, just another day to go, then I can relax.
