below i have managed to import a short piece of writing i cobbled together that tries to explain what lacking sleeps is like. it sort of describes it but doesnt!




I see the moon…

Again it’s late, too fucking late for any normal person to be awake. My nightly vigil creeps round the clock face slowly. I will endure the coming challenge alone, the usual ritual of have something to eat, usually inappropriate and unhealthy, but as there’s no one about it doesn’t count. Not having fags doesn’t help; I can sense the monotony, the metronomic passage of time shouts loud and regular. Late night telly is only for the retarded, drunk or stoned, not me I wanna throw something at the screen, the blond bimbo banging on about how easy it is to win some cash makes me hate women; nice tits though… I try making some cards but the flow isn’t there, I struggle with millimetres and straight lines so I give up before I erupt. Turn the telly off with a viscous prod of my finger; wish I hadn’t done it that hard I hurt my finger which only heightens my anger. Through the curtains silvery grey light seeps, a ghostly glow that raises some animal instinct to look out. With lights off and curtains opened fully the cool light of the moon floods over me, with primeval curiosity I look up at the moon, full its borrowed shine with fuzzy halo promising an early morning frost, the deep black mono night is shown for what it really is, dark clouds scurrying, blooming and ripping apart, hurried along by high altitude winds constantly changing their pattern on the not so dark sky. Pricks of light, stars that have give direction to travellers forever and the winking red and green of high flying aircraft, imagination makes these out to be U.F.O’s but I know they ain’t. My body relaxes to this rhythm of clouds covering and then showing the moon and stars. In me the beast is tamed, yes its four o’ fucking clock in the morning, yes I am alert and wide awake but the moon sees into me and soothes away the worry…