Sleepless Nights

What if awake, asleep, does it really matter? The walls ache, the pipes creak. A tinny sound, hollow and empty as my womb, all the plumpness gone. Shriveled petal dreaming of past blooms. Weeping in sleep for remembered kisses from a child grown who no longer misses me. Electronic screens proceed with two dimensional images playing at the brain pan of three, mining the fertile memories of black and white. Awake, asleep what does it matter? Carpets cushion foot falls, dust dances in stray beams of sunlight, circuits hum. If life is not soon inserted into this scenario Death will wed Mrs. Haversham.