even on sleeping pills: wide awake and crashing through these words like windows

tonight i vow to sleep. i promise myself. no coffee after six. early dinner. enough water, but not too much. low key. no key. a bath. music. nothing. but i'm wide awake. or sleeping with my eyes open. i don't want to talk to anyone. or hear anything. i don't want to feel the warm texture of my sheets or the cool thin threads of the couch. i don't want to wear shoes--don't want to be without them. i can't stop moving, but my muscles ache. there's no reason for anything. it's 75 degrees in my apartment. and i'm wearing a jacket and a scarf. the window open. heat on. there's no [way to end this thought].

my eyes turn a different shade of green when i've been crying. go from cool greys to something more like the cold pacific ocean. breaking in the memories of my childhood. the color might only be my imagination. something i wish on. like stars. or hot chocolate. or the texture of your fingertips against my skin when i'm just falling away into restfulness.