When it's bad it's really bad
Sometimes I wish I were
out at sea, the rocking of the ship to comfort me.

The days they crawl by with me waiting for nightfall,
as of now I sit in the quiet of the kitchen and listen.

Soft rain on the window pane, the sump pump in the basement
beating out a chugging rhythm, the clock on the wall, a metronome
tick tick tick tick, I'm zoned out no brightness just a feeling like a dull hangover.

The pills for sleep, they no longer work. I drink no coffee after my mornings' cup, fearing the caffeine will still linger in my system
when the time rolls around to try yet again to shut my lids and drift away.

When what little sleep I do get, it's interrupted by my mind
whispering: Am I sleeping, am I dreaming that I'm sleeping?
Then I become fully conscious again and I fight back tears that
slide down my temples to pool on my pillow.

Morning comes and I pray that I get through the day without ripping some customer a 'new one'. Another day I'll spend on edge,
edgy, distant in a way. My face wearing my angst, my back hunched. My eyes darting from left to right, up and down to avoid another's gaze.

I feel so ****** tired I fear what will come in the remnants of the day. How long can this go on!