Insomniac Padre de los Niños

Life drains from me drop by drop as I stare at different parts of my room. TV holds no interest. The rest of the house slumbers. I lay here on my bed with no feeling of being tired. I would love nothing more than to sleep but I just stare. I see images in the acoustic ceiling. A clown is paying his loanshark who is actually a shark.

Pandora streams music into my ears in the hopes that it inspires sleep. But all it does is inspire the words that I write here. I would say that life brings my currents state but I am doing fairly well. I simply don’t sleep. I simply lay here. I tried turning my phone into a white noise machine. It is peaceful but I often imagine being on the beach I hear with my toes in the cool wet sand with a cold beer dangling from my fingertips. 

Is there a solution to this or is madness an eventuality. Will I become a victim of duality? Who is Tyler Durden? Will I find out someday soon? I could shave my head but I think I would get cold. Fighting people at night seems daunting, though being knocked out could be conducive to sleep. Consciousness suddenly being flung from your body by blunt force trauma as you collapse on the floor of a basement with the sound of a butcher dropping a side of beef. A cold slap echoes through the ears of those who witness the event. 

I am trying to find a place in this world where my tires will catch and traction will be achieved but until then the engine keeps revving and the gas burns away with little to no distance achieved. So I will listen to my music in the darkness. Letting it claim me and hope for sweet release to eventually find me. Sent by some greater force who felt pity for the tired father who worked through sickness and hell for the last week. Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead! The darkness swallows everything, but my eyes never close.


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