Morning Coffee

Disjointed night of sleep, again, okay. It’s early and as much as I’d like to I know I won’t fall asleep again. Headache. Dizzy. This morning’s got a rough feel to it already. I’m pissed off at myself for not getting enough sleep, again, like I’ve got a say in the matter. I do all the things I’m supposed to do, so they say, to get at least one fucking good night of sleep. I ache.

Exercise before sleeping. No, wait, no physical activity before bed. Don’t eat too late. Drink hot tea. Turn off the lights and the television. Leave the television on. Stretch. Don’t stretch. Have a hot shower. Count backwards from a hundred. Count sheep. Don’t think a thought. Think nice and pleasant thoughts. Go to bed early. Wake up early.

Bullshit. Disingenuous fuckers. Leeches. I resent them and I resent myself. I’m not sure if I resent anyone. I’ve got a toxic fire and I’m spreading it in every direction. I’ve been up for ten minutes.

No point in lying here. No point for this bitter bile I’m puking up on myself. Self-indulgent. Just get up. Just get my morning coffee.