A nightmare kept you awake last night. I can see the dark recesses in your eyes where rest used to be.
You dream of a sinking ship. Its captain submerged under the waves, thrashing his arms toward the water's fleeting surface. You want to plunge your filthy, filthy, hands into the water, but you see the man's face as your own. And you watch as your lungs fill with liquid, your eyes closing like curtains pulled on a cold winter's day.
Oh! you wish for dreams of the shore! To hear the lark overhead! showering its song upon you as a lullaby for your hollow eyes. But you are drowning. The lark does not make a sounds.