Tired...

Couldn't sleep at all, my dreams like rivers, flowing down on to the street, where the lights whir in blue and red. I'm wandering like the ghost of this house. Floor boards creek over my neighbors heads and I catch myself staring down at the windows of neighbors and they're all asleep. My insomnia won't let me sleep, it's a steadfast friend, the only thing that doesn't betray me. All the hurt that's collected here. There's a lot that has gone right and just as much that's gone wrong. I wish for the breakdown, for the tears that make rivers across the kitchen floor, for that mad dash through the house to destroy everything that's built up, the fake walls, the fake semblance that it's all o.k. I'm looking at my capable hands, and they may be imperfect, but their mine and I pick up all the pieces and I dream of rivers where everything flows somewhere... where the eddies of my heart and the tears of my head and the hopes of my soul all stir.