One time at the surgeon general's office me and wesley from across the street ...

It's 3:41 in the morning. My eyes won't focus, but I can't sleep.
Wait, that doesn't make sense.
I can't sleep.
Ok, yeah, I can't sleep, and it is 3:41 in the morning, and I'm having trouble reading what I am typing, but that doesn't make much sense either, but it's the truth.
I should write a poem.
I should write a poem about not being able to sleep.
Or maybe I should write a short story.
A short story about not being able to fall asleep.
I'll do the poem, it won't take as long.

A Poem About Not Being Able To Sleep
I can't sleep tonight
And it doesn't make sense
Because because because-e-e-e-e-e
It's way past my bed time ... no, that sucked.
Ok ...
And it doesn't make sense
In the present tense
And and and ...
Fuck it
I could use a smoke
Maybe a Marlboro, or a Lark
Or a Lucky Strike unfiltered
But at five dollars plus a pack
I'll just not sleep
Because it's cheaper
By the dozen
Or the gross
And now I'm tired
So, I won't be surfing porn like I planned
I'm just going to go to bed
And think about the woman at the bank who said she liked my shirt
And was that just a come on
Did she really just like the shirt
Or was there more to it
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Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls ... The Beatles!!!