Perhaps tomorrow I will do something. I feel myself slipping and I know the more I do to myself and deluge myself with chemicals, the more I chase a dragon I cannot catch. What will the poison be? It's been a long time since I've flirted with la Fee verte, or perhaps I should call it laboisson du diable from how its magic treats me. Tonight, tonight, maybe I'll have forgotten how I feel right now.

I wish the sleep I crave would come of me, I dream of sleep when I do somehow succumb to it's sweet succor. Why is it so hard for me to taste just a piece of what I want? Love, happiness, friendship, trust, and a fulfilling life is too much to ask for. Can I simply have a small taste, a crumb tossed under the table, to this begging dog, from people that do not appreciate what they have? I suppose the answer is no, for not a morsel of sleep has been given to me tonight.

Please bring me closed eyes and a still mind and unleaden heart. Sometime, please.