Reading books was always a chore for Melonie
Every page was a struggle for survival with respect to staying awake
Viewing the text made the words devolve into scribbles
It was enough to give her a migraine just thinking about it
Even the pages would cut the wafer-thin skin of her fingertips
When she finally was done, it was all worth it when she left a one-star …
Anytime he was awake, he craved the release
Didn’t matter that it wasn’t good for him
Didn’t matter if it cost him everything
It only mattered achieving that all-consuming bliss
Catching that dopamine hit and sustaining it as long as possible
That’s why the six of them held an intercession and checked Dopey into rehab
Capricious thoughts scatter across his mental landscape
Reason and emotion decorate his headspace with the creative and the banal
Everything coalescing into a morass of possibilities and probabilities
A prime candidate for the existence of a higher purpose
That life is not just reacting to environmental stimuli and hormones
Unless it concerned her smirk
Reducing everything to its most primal place
Especially as she purred, kneading him, keeping him awake
Nighttime was when he was awake and alive
Observing his domain as he prowled the streets
Citizens were happily in their beds now
They were dreaming dreams of a light-filled world
Under which people like him were just fragments of lore
Real-world boogeymen who cleaned up society’s messes
Now that suited him just fine
As he enjoyed the peace and quiet of owning the blacktop
Lifting another trashcan, he deposited the contents in the back of the truck before moving on
You bore me like no other person
And it’s amazing I can stay awake when we are in the same room
When you open your mouth, my mind shuts off immediately
Now if you weren’t my physics professor, I wouldn’t care…
Morning sunrise had its glory diminished by the fog wrapping the ground
It gave the world a sense of magical wonder
So rewarding those awake to witness the scene
That still isn’t enough to make me wake up that early voluntarily
The words called to his soul. He ached to get away from their siren call, but there was no escape.
He felt them crawl into his brain, eating the cells one by one and replacing them with their offspring. Sweet sleep would end his captivity, but the words would not give him his rest. Soon he was driven mad. He didn’t care what would happen to his mortal shell, the words were all that mattered.
The next morning was tough, and staying awake at work would be almost impossible, but the novel was done and that meant he found peace.
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