I find myself sleeping on the floor. And the couch. A bed. Another bed. Sleeping with nobody. But sleeping still. 

A broken clock is still right twice a day. And someone that doesn’t sleep is awake at many of the right moments and a few of the wrong ones. And fool me can’t get fooled again. 

The clock ticks unnoticeably. And the refrigerator hums extremely noticeably. The desk shakes and I take pictures in my underwear in the public library. Delete them. Move on. 

Everything is fucking black. Everyone is fucking heartless. I shower and sleep it off. Wash myself like a plate. Never mind I guess. Maybe it’s just me.