My alarm clock screams.
Been awake for three hours;
so ahead of the game,
unaware of my powerless range.

I’ve been tossing, turning, creaking,
coming up with new names;
another attempt to link together
all of my fireless plains.

Hey, I’m running on fumes.
Hey, I’m Eugene Tooms;
stretching, twisting, warping,
got you reaching for clues.

It’ll all come together,
posted up in my room;
just typing up a dichotomy
of life as a lifeless plume.