Here it goes.

I sing to myself in the soft
electronic light, breathing
in all of the wrong places
losing time, over thinking
sinking in where it always
feels just about right. 

and then

         I freeze up.
         staring at all of our words
         that we've moved and
         rearranged in sleepy stanzas
         uneven and rough around
         all seen edges. in the hour when
         the dead come to life.