pub. 3-19-23 - 129 words
Wake up in the morning (do not, I mean)
No energy for much more, it seems
Than Nothing and Nothing and Nothing
Slog around, carry your fog around
Electric brain-fog, via wires underground
Zaps you into obsequiousness
Part ways with it, away's the brume
But greeting's the gregarious Moon
In lieu of the Sun is a warm lamp
The traffic held up by the opaque mist
Comes now to the cortex with its impetuous fist
And a pencil and paper's all you want
But the Moon, you knew it couldn't be trusted
Hypnotizes you with all the power it can muster
And Earth's gravity holds your eyelids
Only a handful of strokes has your hand spewed
But the financial report is nearly due
So one must succumb to biology.
Acircadian