Sandman

I went to sleep at exactly 1:25 am. Well, I went to my mattress at 1:25 am. In my shoe box apartment I wandered in from an unsuccessful success. I wandered the streets with my cracked leather jacket pulled tight around my frame. Staring at the cloud gray cement while the cement gray clouds poured liquid on me. I was like a barge ship. Every passer-by gave me a wide berth, for reasons I can't fathom. Maybe it was the growth on my face or the dirt on my twelve dollar jeans or the fact that I was mumbling about government Nazis. Such a rat race life we lead.
I got into my shoe-box apartment at 1:02 am. I pealed off my shiny, damp leather jacket and carefully hurled it to the floor. I then stumbled into my living room. Strange. I live in an apartment not a room. I lay my aching and weary body upon a couch that I found. I eat some mustard and apple sauce. The staples of my diet. After stepping into my biological experiment/shower, I rinse off the day and reflect. This has been a good day. I got nothing of worth accomplished. Such is my way.
I then bring my carcass into the bedroom. A stack of cement blocks serve as a nightstand and my mattress is my princely bed. I lay my weary head down and...
I am instantly thinking thoughts. My mind is whirring with endless possibilities. I get up and pace my darkened apartment. I can't sleep. The sandman has been lay-wayed or killed. I try to think of old wives remedies. Although, I myself have no wife. Old or otherwise. I drink warm cream. Does pass due milk heated in a can count? It's all coming together. My little mendula is now too much in the wind. Thoughts, ideas and conundrums collide like an Los Angeles free-way.
Perhaps its my apartment. I decide to go out into the hallway for a brief time. Maybe that will cure my insomnia or insanity. I walk out in my twelve dollar jeans and red-checked shirt. I run a hand through my long, greasy hair. Best to look presentable before one goes out. I open the door and step out into the dreary, barely lit corridor. I then slouch down right outside my door. I close my eyes and try to get my head straight. If it is indeed crooked.
The young couple are arguing again next door. A TV in a another apartment flares up in response. A baby squalls in the distance. A slamming door, a rushing footstep and the thumping of a fist against a wall. Is this what people dream of? I look up to a sudden creak in front of me. Its old Mrs. Leave-me-be. She peers out with a look of terror and/or anger. She sees me slouching by my door. Thinking I'm either too drunk or high to get into my apartment, she snorts like a bull and slams the door. That's not what I am. That was yesterday.
So this isn't working I decide. So I get up on my evolutionary advantage and walk back into my dark apartment. I quickly cross the dirty floor to the window. It takes a few tries but I finally manage to open it enough to crawl through onto the fourth floor fire escape. Good thing the Nixon commies aren't after me today. I go out into the cool night. I sit with my red checked pulled tight around me as I exhale fog from my mouth. I sit on the rusted metal and just listen to the sounds of the city.
A distant siren screams of danger, hurt, or death. The constant roar of traffic is like sitting near the ocean. The orange streetlights give somewhat illumination to the street. An airplane flies unseen in the raining clouds. This is my world. I fear silence. I need to be constantly assaulted by noise. Noise pollution some call it. I call it safety and sanctity. Being out in the woods alone with no noise but the wind frightens me. As a modern man I have been bred over the last two hundred years to avoid the wild frontier and enjoy the civilization around me. I don't want to get away. This is my vacation.
Suddenly as the thought came, weariness hit me like the butt of a pistol. I heaved myself slowly up and crawled back into my shoe box. I close the window without the same amount of effort as before. Strange. Damn Nazis. Always have to fix everything. I then tumble into my room which has a bed in it. I lay my head down and close my poor dead lights. I almost fear falling asleep. Will I wake up? What if some historic event happens during the time of rest? If I close my eyes will they be stuck like that forever?
This is no time for paranoia, I tell my brain. We can worry about that tomorrow. As for now, I need to recharge, re-energize, re-misfit. For tomorrow is a new day. I have two hours to sleep before I need to be up and in that alley. The early bird gets the worm. Worms do not have protein. It is exactly 3:12 am. I cannot sleep.