Just as good and virtue, sin and evil can only be given in vigil. Who sleeps, sleeps; for the asleep there is no sin, just as there is no good, nor virtue. There is only sleep.
I had a dream about you last night.
We moved into a cabin in the countryside.
I couldn’t handle the spiders.
You couldn’t handle my drama.
I moved back to the city.
It’s four A.M.! Who goes to bed this early!?
Some people count sheep. I self-loathe.
I think I feel it
The nimble, fleeting emotion
That novels and authors desperately
Try to convey in ink and heart blood
Whose shadow festers in the loins
Of teenagers and their insatiability
The hidden thing none of us can see
Yet we all disagree what it looks like
If only it were love… simple, infinite love
But this was more, this was bloodshot madness.
I spread eggshells all over my room, so anyone who tries to get close when I sleep will know what they’re walking on
Lulled by stupefying illusions, the world is asleep in the cradle of infancy, dreaming away the hours.
You have no control over how your story begins or ends. But by now, you should know that all things have an ending. Every spark returns to darkness. Every sound returns to silence. Every flower returns to sleep with the earth. The journey of the sun and moon is predictable. But yours, is your ultimate
Motherhood is a constant battle of wanting to go to bed early so you can catch up on sleep and wanting to stay awake so you can enjoy some peace and sanity!
You are whole today, looking back at fragments of the past. Such a hollow foundation for such a powerful person.