Counting sheep

Sleep is not overrated. You can never have enough sleep. You appreciate this even more when insomnia strikes. Lately, sleep and i have been fighting alot. He doesn't love me anymore.  Laying in the dark, listening to the silence. It can make a person go insane. I count sheep but they too are asleep and refuse to jump over fences. When i do sleep, its for minutes and i have the most vivid dreams. Sometimes they scare me so much that when i wake up, i'm too scared to go back to sleep. 

I dreamed I was crossing a rope bridge
like the one in camp.
Underneath this rickety structure
was a wide swamp.
It didn't just stretch in length
I knew it was deep too
For when I bent
I cudnt see the bottom of the pool
I walked calmly to the end
 but there was a step missing.
In trying so hard not to bend
I sent the ropes a'twisting.
I held on tight
trying not to let go.
No one saw my plight
now I was tied like a bow.
Round and round in the air
After a while I had no care
But just as I let go of the rope
From this horrible dream I awoke

Breaking up with the family.

The thought of getting serious may have crossed my mind once or twice but it wasn't something i really wanted. I enjoyed the freedom. Relationships are limiting and half the fights are about crossing these limits. I enjoyed what we had. It was un-serious and open. He was free to do whatever he wanted and he returned the favor. 

The beauty of our arrangement was that when my bad habit of getting bored kicked in, i could move on without hurting anyone. 

We were perfect. What happened? My mum happened. She accidentally met him and she fell in love. She wanted more, for him and me. The more she pushed, the more i wanted to get away. I wanted to be alone. Her approval increased my disapproval and i knew she was driving me away from him.

How do i end things with someone that my mother is in love with? 

Nine to Five

There's a clock ticking in the distance. The rhythmic tick tock enunciates the  tenseness in the room. Fingers go at keyboards and phones ring. Sometimes it is the classic ring of the land-line and sometimes it is a popular song. We are young at heart but we must conform to the wishes of the older ones. A conversation drifts in from the room next door. Someone is unhappy, raised voices. The door opens and this symphony is paused as the visitor is surveyed. A quick walk to the laminating machine. He poses no threat. The symphony is resumed.

A low laugh, a private joke. There is whispering and a second laugh. Now everyone wants a piece of the joke. The comedian shares the joke and we all laugh. It is a beautiful sound. We may be prisoners of a capitalist market but our hearts are free. The routine has been halted as we enjoy the joke. It is a good joke that will be relayed after work in bars and homes. The clock continues to tick. It is a sound that has become a part of us, like the beating of our hearts. It is a consoling sound and we almost miss it when we leave. We almost miss it. 

Nocturnal Awakenings

I woke up at 2:35am. My two hour sleep cut short by the power coming back on.
I hadn't turned of the ac so I got up to shut my windows. There was a bird on my windowsill. It wasn't one of the pigeons I fed rice to during the day. It had a
long beak and a head that looked like it could barely carry the beak.


A voice in my head told me to shut the window and go back to bed. I ignored this voice.
I hadn't been sleeping well for the past four months. I had gone nights witout a
Wink of sleep. When sleep finally came, it was barely up to 2 hours.
Three months ago I had googled my symptoms and come up with my disease. Nocturnal
Awakenings. My weak brain took on this bird head on. Curiosity flooded my system
And pumped through my veins.


I put out my right hand, to feel this weird creature. It wasn't supposed to be up at
this time. I felt we were similar, both hit by insomnia. It wouldn't even look at me.
I expected it to fly away from the threat I posed. It attacked.
I saw the blood before I felt the pain. The huge gash in my index finger poured blood.
Something pushed me to try again but I pulled back and looked for something to hold against it.


There was some gin in the fridge downstairs, I walked down the stairs.
I could not wait to return to my new found treasure.
I opened the fridge and reached towards the gin. Something hit me from behind and pushed me into
the fridge. I bumped my head hard but when I turned, there was nothing there.

The bleeding had stopped, so I abandoned the gin and went back upstairs.
As I walked, I heard a foreign noise. Living alone had let me get accustomed to the various
noises my house made. This sounded different, like breathing.
I ran to my room and locked the door. My friend was no longer outside my window.
My windows were open. Had I closed them? During the night, my phone had fallen
under my bed. As I bent to reach it, I heard footsteps just outside my door. There was a knock...