In This Hour of Darkness

Insomnia has got its grip and here I lie.

And in this hour of darkness, though I try,

I cannot shake the sense that there’s a spy,

Observing what I read and write and say.

It is not God, some other watchful eye,

Peers out at me, more clearly than by day,

And though by night my Twitter screen is black,

And all I read and write is white, I lack

The courage for a true, face-on attack,

So tiptoe quick and knife from round the back.

But this technique does not me satisfy,

I must rebel and honestly defy,

Not let my real nature go astray,

No purpose served when that I quite betray,

I needs must spell things out, not just imply.

So when I see the grey at dawn’s first crack,

I head straight out and on into the flak,

I cannot stop to ponder, hesitate,

I will not bother to suggest, insinuate,

The dawn is here we must have rows, debate.