and that I am.
So tired, all the way, every time
light tries to burn my retina.

Waking up
is like torture,
an evil war until sleep again,
a battle to stay up
stay strong.

Evening stands like a joyfull embrace,
sheets like the lips of my lover.
A pillow for my lonely head,
eaching for sleep and love.

Everything further than 3 inches,
away from my nest,
my temple of winderful peace,
is a bridge inpossible to climb
impossible to cross.

Every time light hits my eyes,
every time sound,
(freaking beeping machine)
scratch my ears until they bleed
for silence,
is like torture.


Every lonely morning
far away from your bed,
your breath in my neck,
your arms around me,
is true torture.

And I\'m tired of it.