Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Fearing Sleep
I winced as the cold water leaked upon my pale hands. Numb and sore, I dry them and walk out. I'm seething in the foggy wind.
My eyes are starving for sleep, hungering, growling, desiring what I cannot give them. I pace back and forth. "Thank god tomorrow is friday." My eyes squint, the sun, my enemy. Shining unto my sensitive pupils, ready to relearn sleep. I feel the onset of age. I shun it. I pretend I am hundreds of years old, ready to take the ol' dirt nap. Resting in peace.
So deep is the exhaustion. So bitter is the cold. My fingers freeze in place. I'm burning the the windchill. My eyes give one last beg. Moments later, who am I?
1-15-09
My eyes are starving for sleep, hungering, growling, desiring what I cannot give them. I pace back and forth. "Thank god tomorrow is friday." My eyes squint, the sun, my enemy. Shining unto my sensitive pupils, ready to relearn sleep. I feel the onset of age. I shun it. I pretend I am hundreds of years old, ready to take the ol' dirt nap. Resting in peace.
So deep is the exhaustion. So bitter is the cold. My fingers freeze in place. I'm burning the the windchill. My eyes give one last beg. Moments later, who am I?
1-15-09
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Fearing Sleep
Fearing Sleep
