Sleepless in New Jersey. Catatonic.
Careless. Reckless in my mind. My mind.
Count my fingers to pass time.
Count sheep at 2 in the afternoon.
I’d count my failures but there’s too many.
Hands wander over my belly into my tight shorts.
Quick tug to make sure it’s there.
Light a cigarette. Ha. Always light a cigarette.
Sleep 10 hours straight then go out then come back and take a 3 hour nap and woke up 5 pm yesterday.
No sleep yet. Almost. Sort of. Kind of. Ya know? I know
Oh . . . I know.
Doze. Wake. No focus. No nothing nada.
Try to eat. My stomach is bloated from the water and anti stress tea I drank to make up for the coffee and / / /
Ever contemplate death mr Goodpeoples? Not me. Well, not by my own hand.
Sex is a foreign country. Relationships are memories so far buried it’s like I’m reading someone else’s story.
Not hard to understand myself but I always ask why am I like this? I know why. Sometimes I just won’t tell myself.
27 trips to the bathroom. Or was it 30?
My best thinking is when I am in the bathroom or on my way to the bathroom or on way back from the bathroom.
Pay my rent so I can try and sleep. Waiting. Still waiting. Wabbling.
Bullets of words blast through my my my my . . . . and hit you softly.
A parade of sweat falls everywhere. . . anywhere. I’m burning.