Sleep! Thou Hast Foiled Me Again!!
That heartless bastard "sandman" taunts me into be every damned night. He whispers sweet nothings, speaks of entire nights of sound and restful sleep. I remember sleep, well barely but still, I remember it.
Back before this post-pubescent era began the sandman and I were best buds, we hung out all the time.
Rawr.
My arm itches (new tat, yay!), can't keep my eyes open, but the damned things won't stay closed either. A good friend once told me that I'm not an insomniac. . . he was right, as almost strangers oft tend to be. He told me I just couldn't stand being alone. Which is true.
But that doesn't stop my bed from being uncomfortable, and my room turning into a sauna at night, and an ice box when I crack the window.
My agreeing with his observation does by no means bar me from complaining. It is my right.
So there.
Back before this post-pubescent era began the sandman and I were best buds, we hung out all the time.
Rawr.
My arm itches (new tat, yay!), can't keep my eyes open, but the damned things won't stay closed either. A good friend once told me that I'm not an insomniac. . . he was right, as almost strangers oft tend to be. He told me I just couldn't stand being alone. Which is true.
But that doesn't stop my bed from being uncomfortable, and my room turning into a sauna at night, and an ice box when I crack the window.
My agreeing with his observation does by no means bar me from complaining. It is my right.
So there.