Matchstick Men

Reading time: < 1 min

Awful nights slee… well I fall short of calling it sleep as it was more a night spent tossing and turning, checking the clock. Isn’t it amazing how much vitriol and hatred we can heap on such a simple device, after all it’s not the CLOCK’S fault I was up most of the night yet it was the focus of my hatred, desperation and more as it tracked my insomnaic process through the wee small hours.

So to work then, with a roll and sausage (lorne that is) and three cups of coffee to the good already. Cakes later will provide a sugar rush but I fear for the afternoon, poised as it is after lunch and knowing already of it’s fate. Stupor and quite possibly snoring.

Water now, by the glassful and Basement Jaxx blaring to “Plug it in, plug it in baby” but where? What source can I tap into to stem sleep, to fight off the dazing demons of daydream. I fear I will wander this day, lucid but stupefied, removed by a blur.

Fuck me, I’m knackered.