Most nights I reach inside my mind trying to unwind those thoughts like twist-ties that bind to keep the loaves of bread free of mold and fresh; un-plan the long planned plan of mine to choose the time of my demise; and sometimes I try to listen closely to the constant ringing in my ears, the rhythmic singing whine and changing tones that turn the sadness churning, the waves of emotions raging in my ocean, blue as the bottle kept by my bed, sleep my quest; sleep eternal, the rest of death I beg, leave me alone, leave me one more night of breath to breathe.