• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 03
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Night shift

EURRRGHHH.....I hate alien words sneaking onto
my pillow, sixteen capitals that graffiti my blank wall
stating the ....... obvious.

In the small hours while my body is sleeping with
the small moon I dwell in my orbital universe
in conversation with my head.

I fear the infiltration of a question that demands
the calibration of an answer

I slide beneath bare sheets to ruminate,
cast characters, eyelash tick each numbered

I vocalise in the spotlight of the shower, lingering
long enough to face the moon's fade.

Exhausted, cleansed, I send my dormant body
to work.

But the haunt of alien words have created
a transient fault to this automaton
requiring storage for nocturnal debate.