In Unfake Time

Now, I sit before this space

with no poem to paste, 

only thoughts 

to pick from scratch.

And I'm unsettled

by my resistance 

to settling in,

hiccuping thoughts, 

winding up 

instead of down.

Then, unsure how much it's worth,

spun from this hunting and pecking,

I see tufts of word cotton candy,

an ethereal illusion which whispers

to me that I can safely go to sleep.