Keyboard and computer.
My fatigue a palpable reality.
I don’t feel like writing.

Sleep.

Yesterday’s latte petroglyph
inside the rim beg for a sip
from a fresh cup.

Sleep.

Two notebooks, one for work
the other for wishes,
though both drift together.

Sleep.

What happened to ButterBeauty?
I think a mouse, perhaps
under the couch.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.