The evening is long and i cannot wait to fall asleep in my bed, alone with a 101 Dalmatians. Each spot a thought, that i pixelate. My eyes are dry but i know better than to lie to the mirror. Or at least that is what i had said the last time.
Look at me! Procrastinator. I feel sadder than ever. I want to fall into heavenly sleep, like a baby pea in a pod. What a shame it is not a Monday… Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday what difference does it make? Nights now resemble a consciousness of swollen ridicule.
I am my own stranger lying in an unmade bed, and sleep has been hard to get. I dread it now. I dread the hassle of tossing and the turning, the effort of switching up to the colder side. The sense of a creepy crawler down my back only to vanish when my eyes open. The safety of tucking my feet under the blanket, to have it pop out one too many times. The midnight sweetness have turned pale and my dreams have abandoned me.