Insomnia. The night has become morning. A crow sings good morning as a cruel tease while grayish clouds gently move across the pale blue sky. The highway bustles with life with the day beginning for many, while my day is yet to end.
I take a puff of my cigarette as I gently rub my bare feet against the cool wooden floor of the porch. Circulation. The pilot episode of Felicity failed to send me to the land of slumber. Episode 2 perhaps?
Smoke rings of boredom. A perfect floating smokey ring rises above my head with no one to witness my grand feat. The sun continues to rise higher into the sky signaling the point of no return. As my mind plagues with thoughts of the day ahead. The reality that no sleep is inevitable slaps me across the face. Insomnia, you are a cruel bitch!