Insomnia Insanity

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"Insomnia Insanity"

by: Wes Robert Ward

Well now, hold on maybe I won't go to sleep at all. Maybe I'll just lay here like a dying flopping fish waiting for it's last breath. Like a beached whale moaning in agony wobbling on her bed of sand. Like a pigeon sitting on top of a Gargoyle head looking down a big building and thinking it's time to end it all on that Taxi windshield.

I mean, I mean who needs sleep? Who needs eight hours of shut eye just to stay awake for the other 16 hours of the day? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, just bash my head with a hammer and bury me in an unmarked grave.

Here's some idealistic images for those that have restless minds as me, educated or uneducated:

You lay in bed with the night light on staring at the walls and ceiling, using your imagination among your insomnia and fantasize about unrealism when you should be counting sheep. And what is with that anyway? You count sheep till you get to a hundred and all that wool jumping over the fence and it rarely works. By the time I get to a hundred I just smell the nasty sheep instead, slobbering all over the grass, poo sticking to their wool\u2026 it's not a pretty picture.

So laying on the carpet floor might be better, but the occasional cockroach climbing over you might freak you out. And after a while your backside feels like you're trying to sleep on soft concrete.

Sleeping in the bathtub is no better. Looking at the tile and linoleum for most of the night might tempt you in becoming a meth head, well that and the bar of soap isn't the same as holding a teddy bear. Thinking about drinking that bottle of bleach behind your toilet might be your only way out after cramping up in the bathtub for eight hours straight.

Trying the sofa has it's hazards as well like falling off onto your face or finding pennies and looking for buried treasure when instead you should be sleeping. One time, I found a leg bone, no kidding\u2026 turned out it was a prehistoric couch potato.

And camping outside by the garbage can attracts raccoons, so that's out. Just looking at that overturned metal can with the discarded trash all over the place is nauseating while sleeping next to a rotten banana peel. For you parents it would be a fresh dirty diaper, you can blame the baby on that one.

You're screwed, you can't sleep. Try as you may it's not going to happen, praying, running around the block, or whatever it's not going to work. Your mind is as restless as the pillow you try to sleep on. Yes, the one you abuse by hitting it all night. Don't be surprised if you get a domestic disturbance call on it and the police sees the black and blue marks on that pillow.

Is there any way you can fix that, to fall asleep and wake up refreshed? Sleep they say is a requirement to be a human being, sometimes it must be nice to be a sloth. Usually one must exhaust oneself to a point where the brain suddenly realizes it's time to turn off the on button. Watching television doesn't help either when there is nothing but infomercials late at night and slamming your head with the refrigerator door is a lot more fun.

So you ask yourself what's the best way to fall asleep? You then look at your 357 magnum revolver next to you on the bed stand and realize what you have to do. It's the only way out. Many are against it, but what do they know\u2026

It has to be done\u2026 go put the garbage can outside out of it's misery. Empty every cartridge into it until the cops come. Point at it and say, "The son of a bitch deserved it."

Insomnia insanity is your only defense.

The End. \ud83d\ude34\ud83d\udca4

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