Night Night

Bed time, try to sleep. Thoughts wander aimlessly in their course towards sleep, soft and formless. Cold. Thoughts crystallise into sharp image-driven desire; slash the veins.
Laugh off the crazy thought. Cold and scared, huddle under the too-thin duvet, waiting in vain for sleep. Too tired to see, too tired to go and find warmth or comfort. Alone, waiting for morning.