i feel a little stiff as i'm lying here,
staring at the ceiling overhead,
tracing crevices with my finger
though lightyears apart.
the shadows are dancing to
the soundtrack of my breath,
as the rough tree bough taps
against the glass of my window.

sleep won't collapse into me,
so i do what they say,
"count the sheep till they overflow.
count everything until nothing lasts."

a/n: i hate it when i can't sleep because of you.