Tonight... My slumber is a distant relative not even a pen pal can reach, but with each attempt I make to contact sleep, the line is disconnected by the rhymes haunting my upper room. Its like my stream of conscioussness is a bottle of liquor, the more I abuse the drug, the more it abuses my anatomy
Tonight... Sleep is my ex-wife I long to caress and attend to. She cries echoes of silenceas we are kept apart by this sadistic night that is lazily hanging over the sky, just waiting for my eyelids to align in holy matrimony, just to rip them apart again.
Tonight... Rhymes run free in my mind like emancipated slaves and they do their best to reach all corners of my minds landscape, making sleep an impoverished state
Tonight... I gaze into the darkness with pure desparation. My mind deprives me of sleep, yet it is what my soul wants most.