Pull the velvet curtains and block the siren stars. No more distraction from purple dancing skies. Lie back on the bed. Let lavender from freshly laundered sheets wrap around and root you to the mattress where thoughts slide away in a slow melt towards nothingness. Taste silky dreams begin to grace the tip of your tongue.
You see, I prefer my darkness really black, perfect and uncompromising, so even the devilish glint of that one red eye staring at me from the corner has the power to disturb, to dismantle my calm and set up a frenzy of throwing, where sock follows sock in an arc towards the slim, white of the power adaptor. It sits, its gaping wounds, like tiny mouths, punctured in its plastic case by giant industrial teeth, in full understanding that I will not sleep until a well aimed item of clothing shutters me once more in welcome night.