So elusive and simple, I feel lost without you.
I fear you will never come. I fear you will come at the wrong time, why has timing never been your strong suit?
The right and the wrong dreams, when I close my eyes it scares and delights me. Is that really what I think? What could it mean? Too abstract to make heads or tails or any other bodily entity of.
And I’m awake… Again, 3:12. I’ve seen that number before, night after night. Could it be a sign? Or a faulty clock playing with my ever exhausting emotions.
I’m reminded repeatedly of your importance, yet you do the same of your insignificance, oh sleep.
1,2,3,4… that’s a nice farm house. I’ve never been good at counting sheep, I’m more interested in the farm they frolic on.
Counting down the minutes till my alarm, oh how I wish you didn’t exist. Imagine the bliss of feeling the sun on your warm face, instead of the buzz in your weary ear to start the day. Well I better stir, I’ve got a busy day. On top of a busy week and so on.
As I skip out the door tricking myself I’m rested and cheery… my eyes betray me. Sunken and honest they tell the real tale.
And to top it all off, all I can think about is counting down the hours yet again, until I can face you, elusive and slippery sleep once again, once the sun has retreated.
We both know who will win. You always do.