Numb as a clock With a drawn face Haunted by my beats Numb an author Uninvented by sleep Broken arm Uninvented by sleep A tumbling wheel Forming patterns in the sand Whirling, uneven A bruise going deeper within Releasing unhappiness It's work but not completed But what could be left What corner is kept My fever A cloud that thunders a fiction about You Spoiled that which was good Of any of it And seizes my moments Both scolding and embracing Collides with my silence Ungraciously devolving And I give it a sign I surely am disarranged by sleep Wear me away into My patterns in the sand Whirling, uneven A bruise going deeper within