I spent a year awake, I didn’t want to sleep.
I’m sleeping again, I don’t want to stay awake.
I’d sleep forever if I could. The world is too sad to sustain me. I want to sleep forever, I’m too tired to cry.
In the phase between sleep and wakefulness, where I have the slightest grasp of cognition, I uncover the secrets of the universe. I lay plans that I may follow as I write.
But when I am fully roused and aware of the level of consciousness, my mind loses the outline I had in my sights. There is no plan to follow, only that I write.
I have a head ache. I eat away my pain. Fill the emptiness in my soul with another morsel of food I chew and bite.
It’s really bad for the diabetes. Last night I cried because I over ate and felt I would burst.
At school, I was called the food disposal machine because I would eat all of the food. I could just eat and the food would disappear and it’d be a mystery as to who ate the last anything from any plate. Well not really, it was always me. The giant fatty boom-bah-larder.
I do have a head ache. I do want to sleep forever. I do I want to lay down and cry myself a river. And I could lay across the river, my body like a bridge. For people to get over whatever bullshit I thought worth crying over, because I make mountains out of molehills.
I don’t even have anything else scheduled to be posted. I have nothing written.
Maybe if I go to sleep I might be able to conjure dreams. Have the waves wash over me. And I’ll drown in peaceful revelry.