Exhaustion sweeps over me like a tidal wave of sleepy blue silk
The fluid, viscous substance slows me
I feel heavy, weighed down as though by drenched clothing
The tide comes in, and I hear the lullaby of ten thousand soft voices
My eyes close and I feel the waves wash over me, covering me, swaddling me
I slip across the barrier
Where it is only mine, mine and no one else's
A box of sand I sprinkle into my own eyes
To bring good dreams, or blindness
Which may after all be one in the same.