Insomnia

by method of falling into sleep I count the things I’d trade -would I die for sleep?- and in multitudes they rise like the inverse of all the mysteries within a world’s deepest ocean, a world even bigger than our own. and in this multitude of things I cannot find you because our collective moments are tailor-made by whatever powers that be for lucid dreams echoes of nothingness that overlay the noise, frost of a winters’ night that glistens as it strokes your skin so beautiful it can kill you dead and you’ll think it was worth it