Broken
Sitting in front of the computer.
Glasses of water.
Piling up.
Half full, half filled.
None of them spilled.
I had to do a presentation that week.
Appearing in front of the audience.
Similar to sitting in front of that screen.
Except they are faces, not pixels.
I spilled the glass one night.
It fell from desk height.
I stumbled a little as well.
A sound like a bell.
A sound like a chime.
I ignore it most of the time.
A little sound.
That is sharp during these sleepless nights.
Eyes open.
Sometimes, my hands are gripping a pencil.
I should sleep.
Instead, gripping.
That’s what they said.
Before I went to bed.
A great presentation.
A great imagination.
That wasn’t quite me, up on that stage.
That was someone more sage.
That was someone who sleeps at night.
Bright. Kite. Moonlight.
I tried to go to sleep.
Before or after.
Dinner as served.
A stale plate.
It fell and broke.
I think I might too.
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