Can You Start at 3AM?

When the night is quiet, some, sleep on a bed of burnt ash with traumatic sheets of fear. The tossing and turning becomes more of a chore. The body, light as a fart feather and stiff as 80 year old man after downing a bottle of bourbon and a handful of boner pills.

The window is opened a cracked. For the gentle breeze of the nights air could put one to sleep at ease. The moonlight peaks through the blinds, searching for a reflective object to light up the room.

A wall clock ticks louder. 

Tick

TIck

TICk

TICK

....and so on.

Always waiting for the Tock to happen.  Yet the tick drags on and on. The eyeballs flow back and forth with the motion of the wall clock ticks. The white noise sizzling far into the distance, piercing the ears at times. The heavy eyelids, like soaked 1975 velvet drapes, blink slow, but struggle to stay closed. The heart racing in place, with every gulp of hot coffee, it is feasting for. Fatigue rolls through the body like cold syrup on a winter's night. The mind thinking about the future, the past, the eggs that would of been nice to eat in the morning, but someone forgot to pick them up, the yogurt stain in the shag rug carpet at your mother's house, what the fuck was in the Fedex box at the end of Castaway, why is there no one else listening to my thoughts, what if you lived your life according to every song you ever listen too and so on and so forth. 

In the distance a lonely dog named Cannibal barks into the evening sky as the fog rolls in. That single bark echos into the night. Creating a single bark that turns into eight echoing barks, causing the dog to bark more, because the dog believes other dogs are barking at him. A cry for an owner, who cares more about nothing at all. Cannibal is locked in an outdoor cage, while it begins to rain.

The rain fall that begins, rings on every leaf on the tree as the drops sail, storming down from the clouds. 

Ting

Ting 

Ting Ting TINGTINGTINGTINGjgeftingiuwTINGhef8TINGwgfTINGiuqwefi

The scent of rain rushes through the dirty window screen. The strong dusty smell, clogs the air flow through the nose, causing a choking hazard. The body rises from the bed, not to choke on the nothingness. 

As the body rest turn on its side. The microwave time that beams it's LED lights from the kitchen. Shines down the hallway, seeping through the bottom of the bedroom door and the carpet. Praying the power does not go out and turn the kitchen into a  night club for spiders and Beetlejuice like creatures, once again. 

Lightening strikes followed by a loud crackles of thunder. 

The phone that has been silenced for the past four hours emerges into your palm. 

02:34AM.

FUCK!  

The thoughts of another day gone away. The body is there but the mind is somewhere else. The gutter is nowhere to be seen. The body stops caring about the day at hand. The thoughts of bed sounds nice, yet someone else's bed sounds better. The human touch, can block all the distractions in the world, if you are with the right person. Find your person, sleep better, sleep well. Fall asleep with a smile. 

Tell the neighbors to let Cannibal sleep in the house. 

I haven't been getting much sleep at night. Distractions. Mind. Overthinking. Overly tired.........and missing thee....