I haven't slept in 22 years
It's always a back and forth between reality and dreams and dear God am I tired of seeing patterns, shapes and faces in my head
Maybe I should go to a doctor instead.
Over there I see a mountain where a field used to be
And just a little further it's Gandhi and Alexander discussing political trends over crumpets and tea
I can't keep a straight thought in my head anymore
Two minutes ago I was thinking about the change in my pocket and two minutes later I see a world where animals could speak and we all rode 50-foot robots to school and that there's an itch on my back that I just can't reach-
If anyone heard me I'd probably be escorted out through the door
I'm told that art is bad for me and maybe they're right
Art isn't going to help me fill out my tax forms or wash my car; it's definitely not going to get me laid tonight
I should've listened all those years ago when my Mom told me to pay more attention in class
Now I still add with my fingers because I spent math period sneaking another chapter of my latest book or daydreaming of electric sheep and giving my teacher all killer no filter, no brass and all sass
I don't think there's ever going to be a respite for all the words and stories in my mind and try as I might in the dark I see no light and maybe they did me right when they wrapped me up tight and said goodnight and passed me along to be someone else's plight
22 years I've lived my life and I've never had a moment's rest
My body screams PUT THAT PEN DOWN AND GET PRODUCTIVE SON
But my heart says it's okay, keep drawing, don't stop writing, pick up your brush and do not stop once you've begun
Make good art dear friend; to this I will attest. They'll tell you it's useless and you're a waste of space and it may not be much to anyone, but it's what we do best.
I haven't slept in 22 years and my bones ache and my mind's screaming and- oh crap I think I felt my eye twitch
I guess that's the thing about ideas; there is no on or off switch
If it did, we'd probably be walking around naked and gathering berries while fighting saber-tooth tigers, trading hit after hit
Okay I have to admit, that sounds metal as shit
This poem wasn't supposed to rhyme all that much so maybe I'll stop because I'm falling into my bad old habits where I had to make each word rhyme with the word above and now I'm getting anxious and I don't know if I should-
Take a deep breath, close your eyes and turn out the lights
You sleepless, 22 year-old glasses kid, maybe you'll finally get some rest tonight.