Dear Sleep,

I do not hate you. In fact I miss you more with every daaay! I know I sound like a Backstreet Boy, but what to do, I'll go anywhere for you.

The reason I've been giving you such less time is because my days aren't mine no more. They're rented to a monster machine that don't know you. Never been enamored by you. Never really tasted your sweet sweet breath. I know thats not your fault but baby you gotta understand. I work not just to fill my stomach, but because it is something I must do. Be gainfully employed they said. Do something! they said. So here I am. Doing me job. But in the pursuit of acceptance and credibility in an alien (and often abnormally stoopid) world, I have lost that which is most dear to me. My life.

Hence, in the darkness of the night when I'm all by myself, I fight to keep you away in order to live a little. Listen to 'em old tunes of rebellion and grey numbed pain; read about 'em wise kings, conceited gods, lustful queens, vengeful princes and the unnamed soldiers; stay awake a bit and spend some time with the person I love the most...myself; and lastly but nevertheleast smoke a sweet 'un.

So bear with me my love. Give me time, for that is what I do not seem to have no more. Be patient. Do not hold me back and quarrel like you do when I try to leave you in the mornings. For even when I push thee away, know that I still yearn for thee.

Love.

Me.