CH. I

Have you ever stood awake, middle of the night, staring at your dog sleeping so deeply so peacefully and said out loud, “How?”
You stand there, perhaps in such a terrific state of unrest by this hour bottle of pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other, as if contemplating a major life decision. “When will I have peace?”, you ask. “When will I have sleep?”
Squeezing the sleeping pills that could possibly put down a horse, only to find your self-taking your second dose cc_fff_for fftc.of two pills in as many hours, your foot inside your slippers begins to tap, tap, tap up & down, anxiously; your toes begin to sort of cold sweat as you begin to feel the moisture against the insulating fabric
Again, crying out to your big beautiful and peacefully sleeping dog on the cool tile floor, across the room,
Speaking, “What must I do to deserve salvation in an attempt to squeeze a pathetic two hours out of the night before the harsh daylight begins to poke around uninvitedly throughout the room.”
Relax, deep breaths. You are not alone. You’ll soon have too much time on your hands in some place that sheriff’s funny and think back through the decades upon those sleepless, restless nights which you long for so dearly.



CH. II

Update: 05/23/’17 – 5am central Standard time

CLEAR YOUR MIND.

Clear?

DEEP BREATH…

That’s quite some saying, don’t you? It sure makes me think. About many things. About being honest; and I have to be honest… ’cause I’m the only one here, to be honest with. I’m pretty sure that dishonesty in such a case could only mean temporary insanity. No, I’ll be honest. That little ditty, and I’m not sure who it’s by, but it makes me think… nice as it sounds, that the person who wrote what’s in that dark blue box never had INSOMNIA.



CH. III

What the hell am I doing awake, you ask?

Do you ask?

Truthfully, I don’t hear anyone asking anything. What I hear is my own self. What I hear is my mind. I hear my mind so very intensely. I suppose that is why I am awake at 5:01 AM. There is but my thoughts and a tick-tock-tick-tock. Scratch that; because that was only if I had stayed sober tonight. Sober, tonight, I definitely did not stay. As much as I hate to stay awake, I hate to stay awake sober, without a drop of drink, even more. Am I a heavy drinker? Christ, I wish someone could tell me the answer to that. How much drink would a drinker drink if a drinker did drink beer?

I’d type, “LOL” if I were laughing, but in this particular case, I am not. I’m thinking about the conversation that I had with my old friend earlier, who, I believe was in most probability under the influence as well. However, I am not sorry for drinking tonight. No, I am not an alcoholic. As long as by definition, an alcoholic is a person who needs alcohol to get through his day or night; as long as it doesn’t mean a person who needs alcohol to have a smashing good time by himself when no one else is awake except for his dog and the surrounding street lights that light up his apartment complex. As long as an alcoholic doesn’t mean a guy who sometimes tries to drink himself into a coma before the sunrises and in the morning has to take many milligrams of amphetamine tablets to be able to shake the hangover off.

Peace, love, dope!

CH.IV

CH. IV

I’ve been listening to Johnny Cash

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