Restless

Restless... 

The darkness doesn’t arrive quietly—

it claims me,

spilling across the room

like storm clouds devouring a full moon,

warping the familiar

into something edged with shadow.

I try to slip free,

to loosen its grip—

to surrender, gently,

to the mercy of sleep.

But peace is a language

my mind no longer speaks.

It thrashes—

relentless,

untamed—

a storm with no horizon,

no eye,

no end.

I turn.

And turn again.

Sheets twisting into quiet witnesses

of a battle no one sees.

Eyes closed—

but the noise remains.

Louder in the dark.

Sharper in the silence.

Because the cruelest thing about night

is not the absence of light—

it’s the presence

of everything you cannot turn off

~S~