(no subject)
I am tired. My whole body is crying for sleep, as though I might not wake for years and briers would be my namesakes. There is an aching surface cold on my night-skin. I don't know what this is. Here must be somewhere, but somewhere's far away and I could not bear to walk. Muses try to sing me awake, each chord a stirring in my soul, but my eyes are closing soon and nothing more can help. No, this is not again. It is now and then and sometimes love. There's a fine line that no one cares to see. Goodnight goodbye.