Three stoic monitors,
Illuminating the room with a blue light glow.
If he squints hard enough, he can almost see
The ghastly spectres that crawl up his walls.
Haunting shadows
Of guilt and inferiority.

Waking up
At twelve o'clock PM sharp.
He was stirred awake by a dull drumming.
The sound of his suprachiasmatic nucleus
Echoing in his ear
Alerted him to consciousness.
He sunk his bare feet into the Texan snow,
Standing naked out in the flurry and
Somehow not getting cold.

He looked back at the footprints he made.
Despite having just stepped outside,
He had a nagging suspicion that
They had been there all along.