Sleeplessness and dreams

If nicotine is a stimulant why does it make me feel like a calm ocean instead of a tsunami? 

Tiredness, a calm and lovely tiredness. A tiredness fit for reading, for high quality music attained through headphones. A lovely lovely tiredness that makes action rewarding despite its difficult, not exhausting and painful. 

Books are better, but so hard to finish, when I’m with my little nicotine dispersal tool. The mechanical one died, and the final hit hurt me even as it sent me up to heaven. I died, it died, but I’m still here and it’s away. I’ll crush it with a rock, throw it into a fire, crush it with a hammer, cut it with a tree trimmer, whatever tool I have. 

Everyone loves you or nobody hates you, we have our own ways to say our kindnesses, our thoughts and stable prayers. If I want something to stay the same it’s a prayer, if I ask for something to change it’s a sin. I want to feel the cold warmth of my legal-drug induced meditative state until I can’t take it. I can’t take it, but I push through for the benefit to the prose.

It’s easier this way, I can’t imagine any writer that didn’t smoke. Drinking, now that’s the challenge. Do it for the prose, do it for the words, and hope your copy isn’t on the paper that withers and dies. If I have no choice but to sleep in prison for my actions, will I come back to find my library collapsed to dust? Dust to dust, but stay with me. Even in death, stay with me.

Death found you, no you found it. You spent so many days, nights, hours and years searching passionately for more morbidity, for less stability or more, and you decided enough with the books and to start on making yourself a story. The angel of fire, so close to that Davidian sight, now falling to your own ashes in a cold cold place. Good for the illness isn’t it? Good for you, bad for everyone else. Bad for you, good for no one.

Online it said it keeps you up, disturbs your sleep. But I don’t find that to be the case. It makes my dreams come more often and stay longer. What do yours do? Do you dream more often, can you sleep, could you handle work if you had to? i hope one day soon you wont need glasses anymore. i hope youll see with ease, and that you may write of it joyfully.