It's almost been forgotten but stays caught between your teeth,
An abscess of the memory, or the thinking underneath.
As you struggle for the sense of it it whistles through the reefs,
Like the cries of long-dead warriors still seeking absent chiefs.
It's likely unimportant, but you're reaching for it still,
With a tremble in the thoughts supported by your waning will,
'Till your thinking grows unbalanced and collapses in a heap,
And you wallow in the fragments, and decide to get some sleep.