Late Night Weekday

Listening to insects singing
Pulse is pumping
Washer thumping
Unrhythmic click of dryer turning
Esophogus and stomach burning
Eyes are bleary
I can’t see
Blurry scrawl
Gassy me
Quiet the mind
Move the pen
Don’t let the voice of work break in
Is this finished?
It must be.
It is time for bed for me.