My aching eyes scan the flickering screen;
I see it, and yet I see right through it, to some imaginary feats.
The tapping fingers on man-made square hills of my imprisonment
The swirling letters and the wandering thoughts – they are entrancing.

I haven’t slept for days now…but wait…no, that’s not right
I slept tonight, for three hours I think; it just seems like an eternity ago.
Night and day don’t carry difference or meaning anymore
Well, except that light’s the one that hurts worse.

Saliva that tastes like coffee, office that smells like woodchips,
And printer ink and shoes and perfumed sweat and someone’s lunch…or is it dinner?-
They all remind me of how much I want to sleep.
“It’s worth it!” I’ve never heeded good advice…

Fuck this, I’m going home.