Closed eyes are elusive as a villain. They hate you. Your eyes want your eyes open. They want you to beg for mercy. There are things you can do to shut their mouth, but in the long run are not in anyone’s best interest.
Turn off the lights and count down from 100. I can never get to 80. The lovers I’ve loved the most are like magic. Sleep is easy and something to want. The pillow is a soporific. There is no countdown when you love what you are, or at least what you’re being. There is no number high enough for me.
It would be hard to sleep for fifteen days. I’ve tried. My record staying up is seven. I was hearing music that wasn’t playing.
The mind is a strange thing. Terrible and beautiful. Everyone knows the audacious tries that the mind will do when it’s asked. Unfortunately, many have seen the mind crumble. I used to read these books about spirit, and the conclusion was that mind is physiological. You break the mind, and you break thought. Spirit, if it exists, has to go beyond the physical. What makes me? What makes you you?
Being awake is why there can never be quiet.