Back To Work In Five Hours And Counting I strain for a grain of sleep. Eyes stinging in vain. Mind flutters throwing up thoughts, Lost in jack-shit dreamland, But unable to sleep. Synapses fire; ears listen, Sounds intrigue; shadows dance. Skin bubbles with senses alive. Desperate to slip into softness. The warmth of sleep slithers, Further away again... Again, There is no respite. A low distant hum continues. The odd swoosh of cars, Swiftly lifts inky blackness. A dull ache broods and forms, Behind one busy eye. There is no hope for peace now.
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