For the man with too much time
And an overactive mind,
The last thing that he needed
The still of the night would set his mind racing
Like a greyhound on amphetamines.
Not that I’ve taken amphetamines
But I’ve seen someone on them. Bizarre.
He could not focus
Could not focus
On a single thought
As his mind flew from thought to thought.
Sedatives didn’t work.
Nor did anything else.
He had tried everything
With no success.
With no night time sleep
He would sleep half the day away.
It was always the day
That he had planned big things for the previous night.
He could find no escape
As much as he tried.
Was he destined to be like this forever?
Or was a catharsis looming?