I barely sleep these days.
And I say days because I’ve always been awake when the clock starts it’s daily tread through the a.m.
Nights are not for sleeping, I suppose.
And days are just for feeling tired.
The hours I do get, to disappear into the relief of my subconscious,
are few and far between.
Nights are for drowning in thoughts,
And days are just for feeling
Well here goes nothing
But that’s not exactly correct
For when people ask me what’s wrong
Or if they ask me if anything happened
I smile and reply that I’m fine
That it’s nothing
And I find that the lack of true communication is frightening
It’s like humans trying to connect are sound waves traveling molasses
Well get there eventually
But by the time we reach our target the event will have already transpired
And it will be too late
But I suppose that just highlights the problem
I am far too broken to fix it
Sometimes I lie in my bed at night
Curled up underneath the blankets
And when I search my mind for a reason I’m staying awake
All I find