Wish Me Luck To keep my eyes open, burns, even with no light present. But closing them is impossible. Each time that I try and close them to attempt sleeping brings about an immense restlessness, an insane uneasiness. It's inexplicable, this emotion. Many a cigarette and quite a few pill have been inhaled and consumed with hardly any noticeable, let alone effective, result. Any rational reason for this insomniatic condition escapes my mind. With that, I guess I am left no option but to consider the inconsiderable and try and rationalize with the irrational. What this is I'm dealing with in particular I haven't any inkling. I guess then, to start this inconceivable journey, I should ask for the first of many abstract forces of the irrational: luck. Just wish me luck.
