**Warning: serious lack of punctuation! (This is for the sake of the exercise. Don't worry. My love of clipped sentences remains.)
Counting Sheep
I blinked several times to allow the daylight to flood in with the return of my consciousness and with that came the terrible truth of all the things I'd pushed from my mind to make room for the few hours of sleep I'd coersed myself into with the promise that all the worry would be ushered back in with the light as it now had the pleasure of doing with abundant dread I saw the days tasks dance before my eyes like deamonic sheep that wake instead of put to rest because deamon sheep hate the sweet escape that sleep provides and only allow nightmares of taunting failures and bitter lonliness and gloating brothers who sit back and have success handed to them and never have the pleasure of a morning greeting from deamon sheep for the sheep steer clear of people they have nothing to use to torment them so in that way I am much more wealthy than my brother who can keep his wife and kids and home and ferrari because he can't know the joy of what he has when he has never known the empty longing brought about by deamon sheep.
