Be kind. This was one of my first poems ever. I wrote it in the winter of 2005-2006 after several long nights of Splinter Cell in Farmington UT.


How is it I find myself prostrate, red eyes
Blanket, pillow, black box and green ‘X’, controller in hand, blue light in front,
Away from the cold, away from the light?
Am I sleeping?

I wonder, as if observing from outside my corpse,
The calm movement of breath, were it not I’d be dead.
No, not sleeping, not yet dead, entranced, mesmerized by the light
As if retracted by cold and night.

Now I sit huddled, entertained in front of a source, the only source
Of light, of warmth.
My fingers twitch, eyes ache. How intense the thoughts;
How intense the game.

Asleep I fall, in my apathetic fashion, finally overtaken by the exhaustion while a low flicker casts shadows to which accompany my dreams.

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