Unwilling Sleep

It is still early, but my eyes are already weary, flickering with the final throes of zeal to bid you goodnight. Enough, enough of standing beneath a dripping icicle, of wading like a featherless duck in a bloodstream of false hope. Enough of scaling a slippery mountain with tattered moccasins, scrutinising the elusive northern star. Sooner would I take the plunge that we are too frightened, but nonetheless burn with desire to speak of. O summit, O venerable pinnacle where eternal fires burn, O happiness, would you melt the lenses of my impoverishment, that the finishing line may appear nearer to my sight? A wild beast retains its esteem by virtue of its inextinguishable passion, majestically expressed with the thrust of a claw, the heat of an intense embrace! How then is this present reflection vindicated? Shatter, glass, into a million pieces, that I may imagine the reflected body suffers the same. A stallion gallops for muddy waters, strident with the knowledge of what may satisfy its thirst. Yet a contrite spirit can only slither for what it can barely fathom as tomorrow...and dare to call it love, joy, hope and strength. Its only certainty...one laceration upon another, an unwanted joyride on the ferris wheel of samsara. Scream loudly if you dare, buffoon! The shell is far too hard, whoever you feel so much for, will simply depart. Pop goes the weasel, louder still your heart.