As a mother sings a lullaby to her child, I precariously sat awaiting for my time of sleep at the window.
Her gentle but rasp voice rebounded throught the night and into my hearing.

I touched the glass before me and realised sleep was unachievable tonight, maybe another night.

An uninterrupted existence might be desired by some but I yearned for the time I could slip away from this all.

Years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds had no definition except for the pre-made concept that seemed uncomprehensible to me.

Fathomless embodies my once fearful but now desperate breaths. That quasi sweet voice rang quite shrilly into my effete shell.
Effete from being forlorn of sleep. Maybe I was asleep, a permanence of contorted tranquility, so tranquil it became a burden.

Lacking the feeling of being alive, I drifted within the berceuse, it guided me across the night and throught space.

Thinking I feared the return of quietude, with such a long gap without it I believe I've become dependent on lacking it instead of hoping for its return.

My eyes started to slip, my unrelenting pain was slipping from my mind into the air. Its next victim awaited, I did not care, I was free from this affliction
.
Fears were swept away in the excommunication of my former plight. The ordeal was over and I could only hope ... that ... ... it ... ... ...

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