Wish I could tell you that I am trying to solve some grand mystery or that I have some goal in my actions,  but unfortunately I have found that I am simply waiting. It began with watching clocks, the  counting of tiles, and the ever looming fear of my death. We all die, I dream of it every night. Some night I pass in glory other nights peacefully with acceptance but never in fear. As of late I am surrounded with regret and It soak through me. Of all my dreams I have never grown to fear my demise, even at times I crave it. No, now I fear sleep. Having long grown accustom to its normalcy and the comfort of its embrace I was woe to discover that the suffering of the waking world could follow me.

Why must life infest our dreams?

I can tell you from the steps I hear on my ceiling I am awake. I am not alone, there is some one beyond these walls. I hate them. I wish I can not hear my own breath, mind you I wish to breathe, but why must it rasp and gurgle and pop. Of what I can move in this state why must my chest rise and fall. How awful it it to have my ears scratch at this pillow and its cadence in time with the falling of my breath.

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This is why the clocks must go. No long am I haunted by its ticking but I know these number will change and so I watch them. How many moments in a minute how many thoughts in a second. If I blink will I miss the changing of the numbers should I look away to ease the passing of the time. If I am not aware will this night pass. The rising of the sun is welcome as It comes beyond time. It can not be unplugged, run fast or slow it is not sudden the the fading of the dark the creeping of the light. As an absolute  the changing of the day comes first as a though and then a wisper followed by a song and then as fact. 

As I look and now see a world around me I can finally sleep.