Brown Neon: from the diary of Tad Friend “sweating”

something came calling last night.  from above.  as i lay sweating my wang off during a terrible midnight.  it’s been like that.  things.  coming.  calling.  whispering into my brain.  but they don’t say anything. not that i think I can hear anyway. it’s always. just.  out.  of.  reach. and i twist and turn and open and close and clench and grab and pull and push and. and. and. nothing happens.  something is trying to tell me something.  what the hell does that even mean.  i am something.  i know what that means.  nothing is not something and that is something.  confusing.  and it always has to happen at night when i’m trying to sleep it all off.  snooze away the world and its cruds and stinks and itches and thirsts and crowds and oh ho ho the goddamn kneejerks and all the etc they bring. but no, no snoozes for you, just thick sweats and strange invasive whisperings and a black rainbow poking me in the face. how come this stuff never happens just after lunch? after i’ve finished my sandwich and strawberry sundae and am sipping my brewski and then a black rainbow comes and pokes me in my silly face. I could maybe better deal with that. so how come that never happens? my unit has no answers. all it says is that i should get more rest, perhaps use a rectal-sleep-aid or sonic-rest-cure. believe you me i have tried all manner sonicgulletsuppositoriapharmocopials and have yet to have that moist and sinking feeling of sleep-thieving dread stay away for anything like a thrice-night. i’m pretty aware of the root causes. my wife and best friend are dead. and i am lonely. my only chum is a robot. and my unit. which is functional. but i do not love it.

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