I don’t know what normal is right now.
I just know that nothing seems normal at all.
I keep sneaking back
to the blue shade of the mountain shadows.
I greatly disagree with the sun.
I'm finding solace in written words.
I’m still searching for my own.
10 p.m.. quickly becomes my worst hour.
I hate trying to sleep.
I lay there ready and waiting, sure that, that concept has
died too.
It’s one, it’s two, it’s three in the morning and dark
finally kisses my eye lids.
I hate waking up.
The previous days progress is lost in dreamless sleep.
I blink once. I blink twice.
I start all over again.
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