the cool wind breezing through the window, and the gentle dancing of the night's stars are watching as i lay like a dead man on the white sheets of cotton bed.
my eyes are closed, but i am wide awake.
a begger of the night, a tourist of the dreamland. waiting for the dark to come at me all at once, playing an endless sonatina with only tomorrow to hope for.
i sighed, "fuck insomnia,"