a selection from the vault to send y'all into a sleepytime abyss.
3am. my serotonin is loose and sloshing around my too many times concussed, hemorrhaged hemispheres of my mind. sold. for nothing. all i want is hot dogs and some internet porn right now. i’m contained within one room and a kitchenette. motel on the edge of cottage country. but specifically in the part that no one would put their cottage or let their kids play. toofless mulletted aboriginal youth from mixed homes out for fine dining at the burger king and begging for change with dopefiend foster parents representin’ in front of the Walmart store. smiling meth rotted grins. violent leers. that pitbull ain’t got no muzzle. i hope someone else tells them about that.
out on the porch trying to enjoy the deer flies feasting on my calves. wondering what disease they’ll give me next. maybe CNN hasn’t given a report because the bug seems distracted and undecided. god forbid , a major insectoid social faux pas to transmit a disease that some one has heard of or that their government has released the cure for.
cars race one way down the highway. they must be lost. this road sure as hell don’t go anywhere. if bugs are on the bluetooth now do they rock PINKHUMAN brand?
grizzly with his rotted teeth and sour sugars smell is on the porch again. what words of approval can i impart that will make him go away. be,never come back forget his insulin and pass out to Entertainment Tonight dancing with the stars in the sky (fuck! my ipod just said that, “stars in the sky!!!” simultaneous organism.)
at one point i could joke or remark humorously about insomnia. find amusement and provide it to others with matter of fact suggestions about my disinclination toward unwakefulness. i don’t think its funny anymore. i feel like i’ve joined the dead that i mocked and taunted with patented, and oft quoted smart ass comments such as, “ i’ll sleep when i’m dead.” or the always popular ,” sleep is for the weak.” i’m now wishing that i wasn’t made of quite so sturdy and stubborn stuff. i find my self grey dull and frozen.
my mind stained and halfway between liquid and solid, like the car exhaust stained snow outside. ligths and shapes flicker past my eyes. my reactions are dull and delayed. it seems at this hour the whole world has achieved REM and i am left as its captive and caretaker. dispassionate observer, cataloging and ..... i stare at the walls and computer screen ... i cant close my eyes and they dont want to be open. my mind follows too many tangents of thot. and when silence sneeks up on me it seems worse. when i actually doze some times its not for long. every sound, creeking of floorboards shuffling of blankets. cat eating hard kibble the floor below. snores grunts. dogs the next street over. police helicopters watcxhing in the sky hovering scrutinizing and mocking my attempts at slumber, empowered as gods to fit their fantasies and to comfort the dreams of the just and guilt free suburbannites. conscience clear thru willfiull ignorance and oblivious abuse. i want that. oblivion. rest. doom, the big sleep. becuaase this isnt worth it anymore. i cant turn them off. my mind wanders out onto the lost highway.....dark endless, hopless.
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