Glow

Sleep deprived.
Not yet, but it won't be long.
What does someone like me have to offer?
Each keystroke is a moment I could have spent doing something productive.
Still waiting to be inspired.
Current waiting time is still indefinite.
My scars stare up at me like friends recounting old memories.
Telling it like it is, holding nothing back.
Real friends don't have "end" in their title because they're brothers and comrades.
You were always the one there to hold their hair back after we let them drink too much.
Your door is closed most of the time, but you should know I'll be on the other side when you want to open up.
To the friendships that met their ends: thanks for the memories.
Some jokes just aren't funny without you around for them.
Excuse Don, but everyone else just thinks I'm being stupid.
Some too proud or pious, just leave it be.
I'm getting by just fine with what I've got, despite the words I cry on here.
You'd probably be happy to know my finger still flicks my blinker on every time I pass your street.
I'll lay here awake under covers, happy in the glow of my screen until the alarm sounds and I haven't slept at all.
Welcome back, insomnia.