  The Night Routine I rub my hands over my forehead,  exhausted voices strained ( even this is a little strained at the end of the day struggling to come to fruition)  There is a pressure on my chest holding me to this -  whatever it may become there was this boy at school with wild hair and dirty fingernails from digging dirt,  pile and piles sifting through his fingers rolling over the creases ( my head crumbles the music on the radio distracts me singing of love in the same old way)  the polished ending with the dreams and the love flying clouds and circus elephants makes me want to stay up and watch urlLink Conan drinking milk waiting until I cant hold my eyes open any longer ( like this moment the screen goes dark)  This is the breaking point between awake and sleep my head pounding in millitary fashion on tine pinch at the bridge of my nose and the world goes away ( I didn't even notice my roomate turned off the radio and switched off the infomercials)
