My lids are sealed, tight as carnivorous traps,
holding the light within while dark surrounds,
unworthy to be countered by my conscience.

I pass no judgements on the day but turn
under the sheets to better comfort steal
from time that chirps: “I have no more to give.”

The hours pray for incandescent ink
to trace impassioned paths, instead the grey
intractable dawn promises no flame.

My body folds and falters,...