but when I close my eyes
the list goes on and
there should be more
done before I go
to sleep but
when and
how
my eyes close but not my head
instead the stream babbles on
a tickertape escaping steadily clicking
onward with beeps and various hums
drumming through rhythms of inaction
gaining traction in my subconscious
a rompus room strewn with syncopation
a united nations of representations
holding truths to be self-evident:
more should be done faster—
task list headed for imminent disaster!
the metrics electrified over easy
treasonous to the English system, meters over feet
discreetly slipping out the back,
to sleep/ collapse/ come in last
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