grab some tea baby, it's midnight. this is today's slam thread.

It's dark outside
with a spray of stars.
I'm sleeping on the porch again
the ocean sound rumbling tumbling
under the swish of the cars
following the road past my house.
I want Prufrock to sing
I want a jellical feline
I want a stop watched rodent
falling down the hole in my thoughts.
and perhaps, just
sleep.

I hate the Midwest.
There's something in the air here;
pollen - pollution maybe.
Every breath I take feels heavier here.
Ten thousand hours of sleep
would make me more tired
than three, here.
Wide awake, an insomniac,
4:20 on a Tuesday morning;
stayed up the entire night before.
Think about the news;
depressing as always;
sensationalized headlines trying to make
what sounded so inspirational yesterday
into a threat today.
Think about heroes;
die inside. Wish that I had
the life that they have. It's
not healthy, nor sane;
and I think it's better off this way.
Ponder relationships soon to end;
they always do, and it's never on you;
but it's harsh and it's cold and it's never
with intention; accidentally forgotten
in a wave of loose ends.
It's okay, you think;
bitter from lack of sleep;
hit them up, they'll only feel as
uncomfortable as you imagine they will.
And boy, do you imagine they will. Squirming,
steps back; the entire charade; people
you shared suicide pacts with so long ago;
no longer giving you a moment's thought unless
you yourself provoke them. It's okay, though, you think
it's the way, it's the way it's all supposed to be; fetishize
in your mind being left behind. You are the only constant in
your life. Sit and think now; it's the only truth you have.

This isn't life;
this is sleep.

It's amazing how the mind tends to wander;
when you just give it an outlet to. From a short,
small section on air quality; to stream-of-conscious
from the worst parts of your mind; straight to
a small page on the net, forever to sit.
You'll more than likely delete it later; far too
embarrassing - rambling - to let be permanent.
Carried away, tired but restless; your default state.
Anything but healthy, but health is for the weak.
Hate your prose, you do and you know someone else
will. It's okay, though; it's not entirely your fault. Change it
later. Goodnight.

Sigh and go to sleep.