Hypnotized

Hypnotized

It's three a.m. and I'm floating

in a globe of fluorescent bulblight and

so tired,

cold white fingers making clumsy missteps

in their dance of creation.

The wheeling and leaping of black and white words

turns my head with dizziness.

I write,

chasing fragments of my soul,

to pin them into the sterile safety of a .doc file

so they won't fly away.

My computer and I

are at each other's command,

burning eyes staring into a glowing screen.