It feels like I’m suffering from shell shock, lack of sleep and I think I’m fighting a battle, constantly, stuck in the middle and the children keep crying and I can’t make them stop and the more they cry the closer it takes me to a new day and I’m suffering shell shock, lack of sleep, stubble and a thousand yard stare another dark night of the soul laying awake in the moments of silence thinking about the noises that are coming from the street outside, burglars or monsters?, but it doesn’t matter, I’m powerless to fight either so I toss and tune and add numbers but it doesn’t matter, none of this does, who’s going to read this? who’s gonna help when I drown? Ants run across the floor of my life, the floor is dusty and in the corners loose hair has fallen and is gathered and I can’t see a way out of this. I am living shell shocked shuffling along somnambulist and I drink tea at work to pass the time and I daydream of sleep on the tube and I try to grab five minutes of sleep in the toilet at work but it stinks of shit and I can hear the man in the cubicle next door to be straining and puffing and I hope he’s shitting not wanking, it’s all to unpleasant so I walk outside in the breeze and all I want to do is sleep and I look at the homeless and the tramps and am jealous because they are fast asleep, slumbering on the concrete, sleeping bags and jumpers as duvets and a thousand feet march by them but they don’t care, their asleep most probably dreaming of better days, a plate of hot food, a bath. I shuffle along back to my office, back to my desk, I drink tea to stave off the boredom. I think I can hear my children crying from here, maybe it’s an echo, maybe its’ from last night, spinning around my head in a loop, a spinning loop that is going round and round and I tap away on the keyboard but the crying and screaming is still there.
I am shell shocked but I am not in a war, I am not in a trench. I used to run. I used to laugh. I used to be someone different. I am miles away.
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