(credit: wall.alphacoders.com)

The world is spinning in my head, making me dizzy. Memories of sour sweat and running on bare feet through a graveyard refuse to be stored away. They swirl in and out of my present. Sometimes it feels like I’m dreaming when I walk down the street, but in my dreams the dead faces are always turned towards me.

I should sleep.

Tomorrow will be different, as tomorrows are always different. The sun will be older tomorrow. The world will probably still be spinning though, no matter how much coffee I drink. And the gunfire will still be too loud.

I want to sleep.

Some day, I don’t remember which, a hippie on the train told me that I should find my inner sunshine. He told me inner sunshine will let me see rainbows when the sky is grey. But I am full inner sunshine. And explosions. And rainbows. I might just puke one up if the world does not stop spinning.

So why can’t I sleep?