Tired

Sleep deprivation slowly consumes me on this warm, August day...
Exhaustion takes over my mind, shutting down all non essential systems...
Flickers of my subconscious play out like debating versions of irony on an animated screen. What's real anymore? The only thing I know for certain is that my pain is real. I know I'm still alive because I can feel the sun on my face. I can feel my tired heart. Distorted media images can always be dismissed. What can you really believe anymore? Conspiracy whispers into my eager ears, and yet in this condition, I still am confused. I'd love to be the optimist, as some think I can be, but is that me? Is that reality? I suppose I am jaded beyond my years, and that's no real surprise... Just an old man on my porch screaming at the phantom kids to get off my imaginary lawn... Wake me when it's over...