3am br the Reapers happy hour br and the sturdy finger of fear br pokes in my br sleep deprived eye br once again br snatching the breath br I desperately br scramble to retain br it’s the hour of br sweet dreams br and bad conversation br shallow thought br and deep inhalation br sent backwards br as the sickle moon br shines his wry smile br over the shadow drawn corners br of the stopped clock br br why is it HE never tires br in the wait for tomorrowbr br Alc Harrisbr br