Grey days edge their way on cats paws

Toward a quiet somnolent ease

Thought chooses to not respond

Future tense has lost its lustre

Waiting becomes a contact sport

With time of no significant account

Inertia hangs its heavy cords

Innui scorns a parrying thrust

Motionlessness becomes a gaol

An unaccomplished rhapsody 

Fear drives the swifting hearse

The wake a now familiar goal