Unearthly drills, and hammers too,
Roam the world just like I do.
At the same hotels, they stay
And follow when I move away.

No matter when I choose to rest,
That’s the time they think it best
To hammer, drill and grind away,
And so, awake I have to stay.

At last, I reach that special place
Where, off my skull, now slides my face.
Bombs may burst beside my head
But I’ll sleep on just like the dead.

Stephen Tomkins
14 March 2017
Hong Kong