Once upon a midevening dreary / as I typed all weak and weary

How tired art thee?
Let me count the ways -

Thou art more tired than a man
Who, in his wisdom,
Doth run in front of a car.

For thou art subject to
Such slings and arrows as
Insomnia, blasted telecommunication
Companies, the wart of public
Transportation and the
Essence of crabby
Middle-aged wives.

For you took the road less trodden
And hence discovered exactly why
Sometimes people don't give a shit.

But now comes bathtime,
And re-reading mail from abroad;
FORTH EORLINGAS CAFFEINE,
To BLOOD bath, to BATTLE bubbles
AND A RED DAWN And a cold-dripped cup of tea.



Don't ask; when extremely tired, K's brain sometimes fails to operate in prose.