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.
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