When you’ve written it down on paper but are silenced at the very thought. The moment you open your lips to speak the words and realize how wound up this insomnia got. The hour where all the dark collides with the wakening of your dreams and daylight has you thoroughly busting at the seams. The minute you show it to the stranger but fail to hide yourself in its anger. The second your secrets are hidden until that someone else starts reading.
I’ve once again realized that my book has been left unguarded and it’s been thrown into the fire’s flame to punish me cold-hearted. Unperturbed are the memories that rest upon each page but unread are the feelings that now go up in flames. Smell the fire feel the smoke as the book lies silently burning. Because the moment it’s been written down was almost certainly it’s undoing.
Goodbye book, Goodbye pages, Goodbye memories of the night.
Goodbye peace, Goodbye dreams, hello insomnia of the night.
(Written at 1 am this morning as I lay on the couchbed wishing for sleep but daydreaming of a life unrealized.)