I sit staring
unable to understand
that my head is empty.
Staring at the damned blank screen.
And it stares back, just as empty and mean.
No work schedule to follow
and disagreeable meds
have conspired to set me loose
at all hours of the night.
With no help in my corner, the insomnia to fight.
Roaming untethered
late into the morning
I scurry about every floor there is
like a meth-head hitting the circuit.
Grinding his crotch in a cage, trying to work it.
I crave my routine.
I crave my career returned.
I crave an ease into sleep.
I used to lay down and fall asleep on the dot.
Now, I’m a train wreck with my back in a knot.
At this point I would even accept
the rage that made me so ill.
At least then I would feel.
At least then I would blink.
At least I might be once more happy, I think.
I want back my schedule.
I want back my life.
Only then can I run
And get away from the queer little gnome.
Maybe find a place that could finally feel like home.
My typing is slowing.
My brain just wont budge.
It hits me at day break,
And my promise to you, it’s clear.
The next time I need to rhyme, it won’t be so queer.
roflmao – I need to go to bed.
gryphon's hole 