Dear Diary

As I roll to the other side of the bed, hoping for a hint of sleep to lure me into the lost battle of dreams, I find my eyes smiling at the solitary black of the night chaperoning yet another wave of thoughts that manage to hit the shore of an exhausted mind struggling to breathe alive to the day that extinguished hours before the street lights came to life.

The night is far away from the newspaper boy in the early morn. The night seems to be dancing in glory and celebration for a reason quite uncanny to my mind which preaches logic that make sense and somehow aids in competing with the forceful cobwebs of city life.
The deluded pillow laughing at the false alarm of my sleep seems uncomfortable tonight… Echoing every noise and cry I heard, today.
The blanket resigns to no signs of abashment to have failed to provide that one hope to sleep- warmth.
It lies cold, somehow voicing a state of mind.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, the mind abruptly abjures all the uneasy chaos and turmoil of activity, that was hard to decide if belonged to the heart or mind.. and I twist just one more time before I force my eyes shut to find what I’m looking for on my own, and not leave it to the darkness that finds my pupil every night. 


-Nil.