I’ve been very busy of late, doing lots of designing for the school newspaper that it’s made my eyes go square (my right contact lense no longer works, seriously). I also forget to eat lunch and it makes me a bit ratty which doesn’t put me in the Christmas spirit (I made two children cry at work today, but they were behaving poorly). It leaves my head a bit disconnected with my body (which is thinning), which gives me a bit of a glazed look, I think, because people look at me, not in the annoying “look at the gringo” kind of way, but in that “what is that man on?” curiosity. Yesterday I almost lost my place in the queue in the bank because I was almost sleeping, which is a bit strange because I had a really good book in my bag (Tales from the South Pacific by James Michener) and I always carry a good book in case of a wait, which can be long in Honduras. Thank God Christmas vacations start on Friday. I need to rest. Sitting in front of a computer at work all day also has its drawbacks in my personal life as, when I finish work, I don’t want to see, let alone touch, another computer. This stops me from working on my website, career searching or writing. I’m writing this on my phone. Kind of in a strange state of mind.
Anyway, I wrote this poem yesterday. Hope you enjoy it. It goes by the same name of this blog post.
I don’t know where I’m stepping.
No sleep makes me feel I’m trippin’
Into lampposts and people and silly things,
Mumbling stuff, the looks it brings.
Computer screens in my dreams,
So many people have it,
Not as daft as it seems,
Stinging are my eyes from all the ridiculously florescent beams.
Anger brewing under a dopey face,
Obsessing how I’m gonna sleep,
Making me a f–king headcase,
With minutes turning to hours to nights with eyes wide open,
Cursing the silence and the constant thinking.
I don’t know who to trust,
A liability I’ve become,
Today I’ve only eaten crumbs,
And I’m wondering why I’ve disjointed thoughts,
This isn’t what my mother taught
About having a healthy lifestyle.
I don’t know what’s in my computer head,
My girlfriend neither, nor the guy beside me,
I know I must go to bed,
But I don’t know if this is all insomnia fed,
Then I’d rather stay up with a laptop, make my eyes more red,
That’s my head, my computer f–king head.