I close my eyes and yearn for sleep, deep and thick and rich sleep.
I want a night of depth, filled with swirls of colors.
But, I stare into the darkness and see two colors.
Black and white.
There should be contrast, it makes the difference, a change.
I hear the talk of shades, of gray-light, dark, an immersed abundance of colorlessness.
I should dream of flowers blooming, bright and beautiful, of rain kissed leaves in fall flush with color.
But, it is a barren sea of Black and white.
I want to touch the colors of red, purple, orange, awake with the warmth they give off inside a dream world.
I want to taste yellow in the sunshined corners of my mind.
I want to smell the greens and blues of deep salty ocean waves or dew filled meadows.
But, Black and white is what I get.
The black and white of insomnia, the sleep of zombies, the sleep of the undead, the lack of sleep that stunts my mind, my body, and my soul.
I want sleep, I need it, but instead I get black and white.