Ah, where art thou, sleep?
As I busy myself with chewed pencaps and entertain my arid whims with my bleary cursive handwriting, coalescing into one big scarlet mess before my jaded sinking eyes, this mischievous (and perhaps bordering on draconian) mistress persists to continuously allude me. Several times I have attempted to drown under the mystifying spell of dreams, yet it always ends up rejecting me and spitting me back gracelessly into reality.
Dislimned restless nights are spent huddled beneath a timeworn yellow duvet, alternating between intervals of irritatingly scratching inflammatory mosquito bites to no avail, and musing such desolate thoughts, as my frenetic imagination takes my tired brain by the hand (stem?) and chases rainbows and cemeteries with it. Sighing, laughing, cringing, longing, regretting, reminiscing, changing channels constantly in my head, until I’m ultimately left with dead batteries and a static screen, stuck staring slack-jawed at a dancing monochromatic display, lulled by a comforting dissonant white noise, into a dark insensibility.
So instead I turn my feverish mind off, allowing it to repose and cool down, and look up onto the astronomical midnight firmament, watching the chaste trace of the soft cottony moon doze on lazily by, and bask in the myriad stars’ winking, pulsating, flickering, a show of spectacular scintillation; positively illuminating these lacklustre graphite pupils of mine, making the languidly-burning embers in my heart flare wildly and higher, as if doused with tantalising spirits, as if wishing to rival the stars in space, as if reaching out into the galaxies to occupy the missing lacuna in the skies it calls home.
Slumber is calmly lurking within the sibilant raven shadows, waiting patiently, sharpening its bladed claws, ready to pounce upon me in my most vulnerable state, and finally devour the last detritus of my falling somnolent consciousness. But in the meantime, it’s just the company of my insomnia and I on a nocturnal picnic, in the comforting solace of a clement Luna and a million optimistic stars, into a tranquil oblivion.