Down the Rabbit Hole

Blue pills

There are weak moments. These are the moments I long for sleep.
That deep, untroubled sleep born from pretty little blue pills that clink together in the pockets of an overcoat like a happy promise.
I long for that kind of sleep that seeps into an dismal early evening and invites you to sink into a dreamless gray oblivion.

There are weak moments. These are the moments when I want to sink into a hot bath.
The kind of bath who's surface is slick with scented oils that smells of jasmine like something forbidden.
I long to slip beneath the water and take comfort from the amplified silence, the sweet isolation.

There are weak moments, sometimes countless in a single day.