Close your eyes

I can lead a nation with a microphone...

My hand is hurting in a way that can only be described as similar to a million hedgehogs having upside-down sex on my bones... serves me right for punching people I expect, though my friend Dan has pointed out some tips for future punching sessions. Of which I hope there will me non.

I can safely say that my hand hurts more than my face did last time I was hit... which leads me to wonder why anyone actually bothers doing it in the first place.

Anyway, the reason I am writing is because I cant sleep, I have a tin of paint in my room, and I am considering painting CLOSE YOUR EYES on the ceiling... maybe no one else would notice.

I might write a poem... and I might call it... Insomnia?

Tender darkness hold me tight
Pull me in and hide the light
I beg you, try and calm my mind
Hold my eyes closed from behind

Drag me backwards through a dream
Perverse subconcious, kick and scream
Try and still my quickened breath
Still alive, but nearer death

Tender darkness help me sleep
Fly so high and fall so deep
Tease me gently through the night
Different evening... same fight

Right... that will do for now... so sleep well, sweet dreams. x