No More Sorry

Laying in darkness I wish for my brain to die
but it rebels
And I shift around in my own little madness which feeds itself on frustration
so the glow of the monitor again fills the room,
to quiet the frantic voices,
and it casts weird shadows against my lamp and luggage
(the only objects in my possession)
and after a futile while my eyes water from strain
unable to droop, drop or dim 
and I type this into my blog because I think you care
I think you care about my ridiculous Rollins-y rhetoric
I think you care about my admirable adroit alliteration abilities
Baby, I hope you end up reading this.
My go-to insomnia killer has been ruined forever because of you. 
Benadryl. Ayùdame.