shawna

Sleep hits me hard, my pillow full of bricks. I slide into unconciousness before I even realise that my eyes are closing.
Sleep leaves bite marks on my palms, on my arms, on my stomach, my legs, wounds that are steeped in slick saliva and bright pink dreams.
My body is pillaged by my familiar attacker. Sharpened fingernails rake across my abused flesh, living trails of nothingness... bringing me closer to oblivion. My body rebels against the weight of conciousness, craving more.
Sleep hears my pleas for more. Sleep obliges.
My dreams fill with death, and pain, and loss, and I don't want to wake up.

But when I do, my only scars will be the ones I give myself. Sharpened fingernails across flesh. Bright purple bruises shape my ego.
And suddenly life will seem more real. The sky is blue. The birds sing. I am not alone.