• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 08
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A voice that only the night can hear

Oh blanket of sleeplessness hovering above open eyes and fingertips,
can you please forget? Each memory shudders, unconnected and useless,
like the small shells I spent hours choosing from the beach, just to throw them
in the bin as soon as I arrived home. Oh blanket of sleeplessness, I do not want
to talk about him, the time I wasted with him, wearing sneakers and boredom
under a green stagnating light. I do not want to feel dissatisfaction
about the week spent gluing small bits of paper down on cardboard after work,
knowing that it will not see the daylight, even in the tiniest of galleries.
I do not want to think about how un-pretty my eyes and skin will be in the office
the next day, now that the mascara bottle is dry, and I have not had carrots and peas
on my plate for months on end. I do not want to chide myself for each
and every addiction I have slept under. The bridge between waking and sleep,
needs to be a little gentler so I do not need to tiptoe to my mobile
to distract myself from my inner critic, that basic bitch, she keeps on yapping.