(stream of consciousness, written in one sitting, kind like a diary I guess)

I worked late the past two nights, well, late for most, late for me, we have to upgrade stores after they close to interfere as little as possible with their operation (regardless of how this interferes with me, my life, such as it is), so returning from East Harlem and New Rochelle (which was ground zero for covid if you recall) at past 2am has been the norm, I live in central Jersey so the ride is straight, and easy, aside from the construction which is like the boogeyman of Jersey night driving, so you finally get home, and I am not one to flip a switch, I wish, I wish I could just lay my head down on the pillow, without a twitch, but no, some inner itch, I suppose I amp myself up to be awake and aware while I work which takes time to wear off, and it does, plus being outside the usual circadian cycle, that certainly does not help, I tune into some meditative binaural beats or isochronic tones, or both, with the dream of sleep, it the not so distant hours, but sometimes you know, you just know this is not going to happen, and once that ball starts rollin’ around your noggin naggin’, well…
the hours seem to click by, on nights like these, sleepless nights, taunted by the glowing red block numbers that seem to strobe-flash like late night traffic signals, 3:00, 3:30, 4:00, 4:04, 4:09, 4:12 each toss and turn aside the glaring numbers preside, sowing the seeds of pre-defeat for the next day… will I ever fall asleep, before day-break, for that seems the worst feeling of all… and maybe I do catch a z or two, in-between the peekaboo, but certainly not a satisfying romp into rem sleep mode… and then the bleating-heart alarm clock…
a shower and a shave, charcoal toothpaste stains the basin, I’m not racing, but I am not taking my time either, hop in the car, pop on the heated seat and some morning schlock-jocks discussing sports, not the time for serious thought, just noise as I begin down the road…
I am not sure what this is, maybe over tired, over compensating, seeing the sun for the first time in a few cycles it seems, charging forward in my lane like a charging bull, the highway pavement blanched from the leftover brine-dust of a forgotten storm that barely was, there is a mysterious smoky mountain range looming in the distance that I never noticed before, well, because this is merely clouds, I prefer to pretend the mystery mountain trend instead, and I take a moment to fill out a survey to myself, I did not fall prey to the doom of the clock, that awful count-up from staying up (choice or not), nor did the seeds of a bad day, make their way, and germinate in my mind like vines choking a wrought iron fence, no, not today.