Tonight I will not dream.
My pillow is hard, unyielding.
a lumpy mass that can not smother echoes that laugh at my nightly struggle.
I turn over... again,
But the change of scenery is no help.
Maybe I should go for a walk?
Go out and greet the night on its own terms?
But I am already cold, empty and nothing out there can fill the void.
Red numbers loom large before me.
One... two.. three
burning through eyelids.
A consuming river of fire which flows onward
leaving me behind smoldering in its wake.
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