ra

a quid pro quo for zzz

i have no concept of time : years have gone by this
summer. minutes masquerade as months. seconds
can pass and i have visibly aged while sleep forgoes
centuries.

my digital alarm clock reads 5:12 (am), unmistakable
bright red numbers that don't mean anything to me.
there is some inherent cocktail responsible for this: oh,
you're an artist, an appreciative member of All Things
Aesthetic...in that case you'll have to go to the genetic
grocery garden and pick up a loaf of insomnia and a
carton of depression.

twenty-four hours and still forming coherent sentences,
a cram-exam's ideal. this Sunrise Syntax may be
commendable but it is easily overshadowed by the
price my body will pay for my mind's inability to
surrender it's reign. i have tried everything - air filter for
neutral noise, no caffeine past five, warm drink, shower,
counting sheep, counting heartbeats, counting
electrons in subatomic matter, meditation, playing
"what is a coma?" in jeapordy-charades. a dose of
sedative-literature, say finnegan's wake, would not cure
the sensation like i drank too much latte, much too late.

i love the way the it looks outside; there is some feeling
associated with being awake at this hour, when the sun
has arrived but has yet to remove it's baggage from the
overhead compartment, exit the plane and make it's
way down the gate. it is a feeling of all inclusiveness, a
secret world you share with knowing glances to the
rare few who you pass on the road as they sip
coffee from an oversized thermos. it is reminiscent of road trips -
loading the car while still dark, the excitement of going
somewhere new and with a friend or friends and
realizing that the journey will account for half of the
memories (vehicular travel theorem for distances more
than or equal to 400km).