In the lonesome hours of the night,

I lay in my double sized bed.

Abundance of sheets, blankets and pillows engulfed me.

Creating an artificial warmth that was originally provided by you.

As the hours creep on, so do my thoughts.

Sitting around a campfire, they tell the horror tales of my life;

Laced with fiction,

Sprinkled with anxiety,

Ending on sour notes.

Limbs getting restless as they stir involuntary.

Eyes wide, fixated to above where I lay.

Darkness washes over my being before real agony began.

Sleep is a rest for some,

Sleep is a past time for others,

Sleep is an escape for me.