It’s foreign to me now.
Restful sleep that is.
The demons come at night, slip into my bedroom, work their way through the dark shadows of my cluttered mind, and pounce on me in my restless sleep.
I’m tired, yet I fight the Sandman with both fisted hands knowing who’ll win this game.
Fire, blood, tears and pain course through my body only to have me wake drenched in sweat soaked clothes.
Those nights bring terrors of demon exorcisms and Hail Mary’s thumbed across rosary beads.
The mind can torture us. Mine tortures me in sleep.
There is no ending here...