I'm too tired for this

But sometimes that's a good thing

sometimes that makes the words flow
like chunky butter down the sides of a stack of flap
jacks
sometimes it stops up the dam like a beaver's wet dream
(wow...that was a triple entendre, AT LEAST!)
and sometimes I get distracted by the cracks and crevices in my mind, the gutters filling with sludge and DIRT and grease and grime--
I am a pervert.
Always have been, always will be.
But I think that the best part is that the insides of my brain are not throbbing
nor are they shimmering in the the desert mirage of unreal world I've created there.
My cats seem to think I speak their language.
But I don't.
They talk and talk and talk, and all I hear is "meow."

My arms feel like cement
my eyes have lost focus
typing is an effort
why am i tired?
why am i not alert?
I will go crawl into my bed now.
but I will will liwll