why do i tire of counting sheep?

i’m tired
of you, and
i’m tired of
Miss Irony;

i’m tired of OCD,
i’m tired of poetry,
i’m tired of counting
and miscounting sheep,

i’m tired of losing my mind
to cosmetic con artists who make
more money than banks,
who make more sense
than a vending machine;
who make their mind up,
down,
not minding their dirty,
shady business.

oh, how i envy those poisoned Disney Princesses

i’m tired of blitzkrieg alarm clocks that snooze louder than me,
and
i’m tired of vinyl pinups (un)dressing up my hypnophobic lids
and
i’m tired of the poltergeist who keeps fucking up cushion clouds
and
i’m tired of my revolving eyelash nightmares opening too soon;

and i’m most certainly tired of the technicolor monsters
living six feet under my bed–
the ones that scream me caffeinated lullabies,
beneath bedlam bedbugs, to scare me awake,
so i can daydream of dormancy
the next morning.

the crows have risen,
and the roosters snore
until i wake up from
midnight reveries to
old Spanish castles.

i’m tired
of sleeping.
i’m tired
of insomnia.
i’m tired
of lethargy.
i’m tired
of tiring.

i’m tired.

*CholoroformBoy

*Fireflies - Owl City