Tired of sleep.

Sixteen hours, so little has changed and good riddance to another wasted day. Sixteen hours wrapped in the arms of sleep and I'm hurting and afraid, angry and sad. I have no control and this is it for me, the drudgery of shit, shave shower and hunt for food, clambering through the detritus of age old happiness and finding nothing but blank looks and a fuck you for being late.
A draw full of short-term solutions and good times sits there so damn powerful. So much to do and so much time, but it must be done - not today, today is sitting wondering what should have been if I were more, if I were not fucking pinned to lethargy and introversion and sad hours alone fighting my urges and sick repercussions for my sins.
Tired once more. Tired of running. Tired of answers. Shivering to the cold bone inside me. fed up. Just fed up.