All Your Sleep

While they stretch and preen,

Sweat and strut-strut-stumble

My finger is taking memories –

Click by click –

I am mentally repackaging

Versions of history,

Stacking facts

Picking opinions

Filing options for posterity.

Or is this just my ego?

Boasting again?

And, in reality

I am building a too-small

House of straw

On quicksand.

Funny how there are

Those times when,

However desperate you may be

You cannot think of a thing to say.

You lack the insight, the spirit, you’re

Chewing cold-comfort frustration

And it’s so, so exhausting.

But, hey, aren’t there

Also the times,

When nobody’s near,

Times when your eyes

Bleed with detail, your brain’s on

Won’t-switch-off fire

And all your sleep is stolen?

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