my eyes burn from being awake. his words weigh down my eyelids, top heavy windows. all day he waits patiently for the sun to lay down its golden head in slumber on pillows of clouds; the world follows at ease by the nightlight of the moon. slip between the sheets into a persona no one would ever guess to know. he waits for his chance to come alive, putting his stitching aside with one final scar before taking control of the dark.