Sits at his desk, hands clenched, palms sweaty.
Mind racing faster than his 75 Mbps Internet connection.
Reads the half cocked notions of @MasterOfHisDomain
Fingers pummel the keys, then stationary on ‘delete’
Eyes shift to the clock.
Moments passing, he laments the minutes of sleep
he will be without tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow morning he will wish for sleep
he will wish to leave his claustrophobic cubicle
he will wish to rest his eyes on nature and not a screen
he will wish to never stroke the keys again
he will wish for sleep again
like he did today.
Reread and he sends.
sits at his desk hands clenched, palms sweaty
waiting for one more nudge.
sleep is no match for justified rage.