Week's done:
Nothing
More
To do
Than
Run reports,
Revise, revise
Until it needs
More vise than
You can ever,
Ever,
Bring unto;
I crash
At the
Tip of
My chair,
Fall, slumped
Into the keyboard,
Mumbling something
Crazed
Until that gentle
Pulse of screen,
The saver of,
Splays graphic
To and fro
Across the back
Of my bowed
Head.