12: 45

   The muddy blue glow of the

microwave clock does not give me

seconds to count. It teases me with

hour long minutes and in thirty-nine hours

the moon has not changed position.

Why doesn't it look as tired as I feel?

Concentration rots into a blur.

Perhaps it means something.

But I'm concentrating too hard to think.

Don't let it overtake me. You can torture my mind

but you will not conquer me.

Oh merciless ...