Go to sleep

Reality thins as the night shifts to morning. The witching hour, people who lived without technology knew.

Go to sleep

Asleep we pass unnoticed through that moment in chance. Don’t tempt the gods of caprice. Idle hands, malleable mind, susceptible to evil.

Go to sleep.

I can’t. My mind won’t shut down. Riding that swell of delusion, I pick up my phone hoping to capture the forbidden.

Go to sleep

To pull back the veil and gaze upon the face of chaos. The welling of emotion carries me forward, keeping enough conscience thought to check for spelling.

Go to sleep

Recording the free verse of my psyche. Laying bare my writer’s soul. I fall forward into the thicket of my thoughts, praying for coherence before the booze overtakes or sleep extinguishes my thought, strangles my sweet muse.

Go to sleep

Lost, I put down my phone, the brilliant thought lost to the darkness of consciousness, lost forever, sadness overwhelms.

Go to sleep

Only sleep can heal ….

Go to sleep.

©The Autobiography of Mr. Perfect, 2012, written entirely on my iPhone.


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