Posted: May 30, 2008 in Culture, Dark, Imagery, Insomnia, Musings, Night, Nihilism, Sleep, Snippet

I’m not asleep… but that doesn’t mean I’m awake.
And that’s never been more true than now.
My eyes are bloodshot with a lack of sleep,
Yet I’m wired like a ticking time bomb.
The light glares at my face as though I’ve given it a rude awakening,
Like I’ve disturbed its peaceful slumber.
Eight fluid ounces of monotony rush through my veins, reminding me that
Torment is the best canvas.
So I surf the television waves with a gray board and I am
Bored and caught in a net of “I’m not there”
That halfway house between sweet pipe dreams and bright sunlight.
I could clean my room;
I could clear through all the shit that coats the floor like
So many pieces of rotting fruit.
Or I could not do anything.
I could sit here,
And turn off the light
And forget everything.


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