insomnia
4am. the hours that were once ripe now stretch out before me blanched and carnivorous. the watery blue of my computer screen does nothing to lull me to sleep; on the contrary it may as well be propping up my eyelids. i'm worried about Ken. i can't get a hold of him on the phone; maybe he crashed my car. maybe he was arrested for driving on a suspended license. maybe i should walk over to his house to see if he's alright.
i was wrong...these hours are still ripe, but now with worry and distress. the mockingbird calls and summer is on its way. shorter nights...less time to worry about sleep. it's the middle of the night and i don't know who i am anymore.
i was wrong...these hours are still ripe, but now with worry and distress. the mockingbird calls and summer is on its way. shorter nights...less time to worry about sleep. it's the middle of the night and i don't know who i am anymore.