all work & no deviance

the last few weeks have left me with little sleep, and the two ends at which i burn my candle are now close to meeting in a dissipating centre. i think they call it burn-out? i dream about sleep when i’m awake, and i fear not waking when i sleep. i’m immune to being woken by people who give up on me too easily. their sympathy does me no good when they ‘let me be’ and so i am, and just go back to sleep. i set a million alarm clocks to go off around me. i know their chimes, their tone of tick and i can automatically, in semi-conscious states, hit their  individual “off” switches, no problem.  so dextrous am i at this that i have to play new tricks on myself. i now ensure that i sleep in uncomfortable positions so that when the final alarm fails to rouse, an aching arm, neck, leg or back will. masochistic maybe, but it’s worked so far. i have two more days to go before finishing off what i’ve been working at…then i’ll get back to what i was meant to be doing here. i don’t like this kind of excess. it’s too routine, too one-dimensional. i need music and sunshine, laughter, people, dance and movement, to read and write what i like again and to cook vegetable curry…this all work and no play shit doesn’t do it for me; in some ways it does but not really, not essentially.