elusive
Why am I incapable of sleep? Why am I not consumed by sleep
the way I am consumed by thoughts of those I have loved and lost? Such an
innocent thing as a short afternoon nap eludes me for I am haunted by thoughts
and ideas and recollections of events and conversations. I work through the
patterns of words, try to make sense of your choice of grammatical effects and
of tones. I recall all of the things that were worn, the way we embraced and
how what we had was born and how it died. I try to clear my mind of all once
more in that elusive search for sleep’s sensual grasp but all attempts fail and
I find myself disturbing the cat as I turn one way and then the other before
pulling up the covers and moving my legs. I reach out for a book and begin to
read but four or five pages in I am too tired to continue. I realise there is
no use and so I get up, step back into the pile of clothes that I left on the
floor no more than an hour ago, and walk downstairs. The silence of the house
screams at me again and I long for music, I long for film, I long for a book… I
can’t quite decide which one I want more and so I linger in a state of
bewilderment and inactivity. I start to wonder what you’re up to. What has been
happening in your life. Who you’ve been seeing and what you have been thinking
about. What films you have watched and which songs you’ve listened to. We’re
all alone. Some in peace, some in tension. Only for fleeting moments are there
moments of joy and connection and often those moments would destroy so many
others if only they knew about them.
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