The text is buzzing
my eyes new and fuzzy,
in my hands the last breath
of ten thousand winners.
The inkwell is half empty
candles flickering gently,
the moon rests her head
and pours a lavishing smile.
The pages glowing fiercely
yet my intent sincerely,
through snowy fingers she snickers
I've stolen her eye shadow once more.
By dawn we are full of intrigue
for we choose to bear this fatigue;
my dear we haven't slept in weeks.