wakey wakey
Toutes proportions gardees, you will understand, John; but I meant it, the formal excellence. I suppose I may as well get my feet wet here by chucking in a first draft:
No. 2638: Wakey, wakey
Four in the morning, Scott Fitzgerald said,
Is always the true dark night of the soul,
When waves of guilt and fear invade the bed
And sleeplessness is life without parole.
But now insomnia creates the chance
To light a doobie, go online and get
Your choice of virtual euphoriants
Proffered in lavish splendour by the Net.
For some it's porn, for others sports reports
Or news from God; whatever, click your mouse
And you'll be happy, leaving morbid thoughts
To wilt and die beside your snoring spouse.
The cyberworld is better than a dream.
It's more amenable, and has more class.
I spend the small hours in the screen's blue beam
While Debbie Harry rips out 'Heart Of Glass'.
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