Who is that silly little man

Who is that silly little man
that hangs about my shoulders
willing me to sleep? Sleep?
HA! I laugh at sleep, with
its fluffy pillows made of
clouds, and tooth fairies and
teddy bears who come alive.
Who needs it? Give me my
Folgers any night. The smell
alone will chase away sleep's
sweet temptation. Why succumb
to its gumdrop goodnes and
fairy tales? Unicorns who
soar freely among turquoise
stars are no match for the
splash of cold liquid on my face.
They're washed away, revealing
that man. He shakes and he
wiggles and he climbs my hair
and plops down on my head.
I flick him off. (Or does he fall?)
Rationality is overrated anyway.