Half-Lidded Stylish Eyeing

There's a bullet-like rainstorm going on, and it's past 1 in the morning. Why am I still awake, after spending this entire week cleaning and tomorrow being pretty busy in the morning? My mouth is full of that thick, thirsty suction, and my eyes burn to close, but my being - I suppose that link between my mind, my heart, and my soul - strains against slumber.

So many emotions; so little patience for analyzing. Why can't I just float? Why must I think so much for every decision, and yet I blink and realize that I've actually under-thought it? When will I start falling asleep as I need to, and not when I drift to it?

My skin feels so dry and soft. The skin of my hands, stretched and sensitive. Too much talk. Where is my clarity? Where is my strength; my drive.