I have revived my ancient rule that I must write something on The Man who fell from the Sky each day, so here is today's effort.
Is a time when the spirit is low and dark thoughts reign. This is the time when I want to sleep but lie awake, reality staring at me naked there. Later in the day I can put on my false clothes and pretend. But at 4:25 a.m. I am bare and defenceless against truth. I wrote one poem about an hour later which allowed sleep, but knew the poem for the crap it was - now that I am up and clothed in dishonesty I will probably find it to be good.