I crawl into my nook under a warm blanket of self-love. Darkness fills my void and I succumb to sleep.
The sheep I count are green and three-legged, there’s daisies for clouds and orange grass. I’m soaring through space outside of some distant planet’s atmosphere. I’m on my feet, on my block.
Suddenly, the warmth is pulled from me like a turkey baster fills with broth. And I feel a bony hand on the square of my back. It’s cold and it seems to come into me.
I’m wide awake.
The unwavering attendance of the Ghost Insomnia fills me like hate. I toss I turn, I feel it so close. It begins to warm me from the inside out. My eyes soon feel fuzzy, and bounce around in my skull; I can no longer read the time on the clock. My lips feel chapped shut, I can only breathe through my nose now. Shapes being to shift.
Where are you taking me?
Do you know what you’ve done to me?
And yet, each time morning arrives and the golden sun stretches across the sky and peaks through my window, I watch it do so. I watch it as the dark night sky soon turns lighter. It then becomes a light blue - the color of day and quickly transitions to a honey colored haze.
The sandbags under my eyes could’ve saved New Orleans.