plath larkin zombies II

Insomnia is an iron age, there is no sweetness or religion when sleepless eyes have traced the void for texture or edges so long and found nothing but the self hurtling toward obliteration; decoration, direct daylight, is a luxury, ill-afforded and false when trying to understand nothingness, religion a “vast moth-eaten musical brocade”, the astrology of “pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.” Not sleeping kills a purposeful life, explained, and leaves nothing but grainy images to blow sand into dried, pried-open eyes.