more of the same insomnia

amphetamines go with gin like lust with empty nights:

one to wake me up, another to fall me into dreamless sleep.

as the hour of sunrise approaches, my expectations wither.

i look at the inside of my eyes until i can recall each floating shape perfectly contouring against the hellish orange background of the veins in my eyelids

insanity slowly overtakes me.

i become paralized.

i no longer reach for the half-empty glass.

the cold chains me to these dirty gray sheets.

the arid soul then shakes for hours.

the pills meant to shut down my frontal lobe have long been filtered by my liver.

it is pointless to hope.

i can only accept the dread licking my back.

its tongue scrapes, reaching towards my insides like the last bit of cocaine from my snuffbox.

i am violated for hours by my own thoughts.

i can only hope one of us will fall unconscious soon.

the weight of my skin is too hard to bear.

the night is playing me.

my mind races.

my body shrivels.

the torrent of pain can not be stopped.

take me already, then use my bones to build a raft.

when a drop is enough to break my skull, i pray for the coming of the flood.