Nothing on my mind
but a tired eye
heavier the slits close
tighter wanting to be shut

A yawn assumes my destiny
sleepless I sit
and loathe being awake

To dream, to conquer,
to be everything I make
A gleam of bursting
tangible light,

humming

The tune as if the bulb
were turned too tight
as my head bobs
up and down

Like the nods of the yes-men,
the beggars and their plows,
Acquitted with nonsense
foretold tomorrows vows