The unholy hours just after
one in the morning
are irretrievably tainted
with a wide-eyed
discomforting electric guitar buzz
the hoarse, desperately thirsty
tones of a blues riff
grinding somewhere
behind your eyeballs
as your common sense rages against
a buzz of a different kind
caffeine burning away at your soul,
baring mechanical clockwork
laboriously and painfully grinding out the latest
in a lone pocket of wakefulness
a pinpoint of halogen or fluorescence
holding vigil
against the enveloping sea
of unconsciousness.
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