Wisping away into a gental, deep, dark, sweet dreamless sleep would be amazing would be lovely. More like flunking down into a heavy nightmarish bitter rusty tast. the clock: tick, tock, tick, tock turns past the hours like seconds 11, 12, 1, 2... They don't stop. The heavyness in my eyelids is not enough to keep them closed for the night, 3, 4, 5... Only a little bit till sun rise. Need sleep, need confort, need love, need serenity.
February 19, 2010