Rest-Shaped Feelings

Haikus

Given fifteen ticks
Of a clock that does not stop
This is called our rest

Rest is just a shape
Empty of real peace and calm
Hollow as a shell

Authorized to breathe
For exactly half an hour
Then return to death

The feeling of rest
Is an imitation game
Played by tired ghosts

We sit in the dark
Waiting for the bell to ring
Rest is just a pause

Not a real relief
Just a momentary gap
In the crushing weight

They design our rest
To fit in a spreadsheet box
Perfectly constrained

Exhaustion remains
Underneath the scheduled break
Nothing has been cured

We perform the sleep
With our eyes completely wide
Looking at the screen

The rest has a shape
But no substance we can feel
Just an empty space