Yet another day now comes to a close.
Shutting at last my ledgers of pain,
I browse through the pages of hours of days
And cower beneath well-trodden caches of blank
That have clogged my disks with items unused
In drives full of untraceable malwares in heaps.
Trapped into unchanging patterns of same
I dread rather more the end that'll start,
These patterns at once from scratch.
Torn between fears of a withered old dawn
And sleep full of illusion of rest
I writhe among sheets with eyes open shut
And count my minutes full of sweat.