Rambles 5

This one I'm composing in black ink
On blue paper
Just to be different.
And I can't find anything else.
Maybe I over-analyze myself
Or at least over-observe myself.
I want to sleep
And I'm feeling myself get slowly
More and more tired.
I know that when I go to sleep
I'll forget this pain
But I don't want to.
I want to fix it.  It's been here
Too long.
Much too long.
Any amount of time is too long
For pain.
Or lack thereof.
Emptiness is worse.
I guess it's not really pain
Just the pain of remembering
Something that was
And isn't
And not knowing how to fix it.
If it's possible to get it back
If the emptiness is temporary
If it's something I've done
Or haven't done
Or if it's all imaginary.
But I want to find out
Because I can't do this anymore
Or, more accurately, I can.
I can lie to myself
Forget things
Concentrate on enjoying the here and now
Finding the good stuff,
The neat stuff
Finding individual grains of sand
In the stream that's flowing through
My fingers
I can do that
For a long time
A very long time
And now and then it gets to me
Late at night
When I can't do anything about it
Except make up stories
Imagine
And try vainly to fall asleep
To escape
But it doesn't always work
So I write
With a steady hand
And dry eyes
What is wrong with me ?!???
Six o'clock, Terry.
Time to go to bed.
And maybe you'll still feel this way
  in the morning
And you'll get help.
Please don't forget.
For my sake.
And yours.

-TCS