AlisaTamna

i.        Night comes once again and her lashes only flutter. Her eyes do not close. She is as predictable as the cycle of the moon. Oh, come sacred Sleep! Steal through her window and bless her with a nepenthean kiss. Let her dream serenely till her mind is quiet and her limbs are loosened and let her not wake for days. However, inspiration sinks its claws in her and she awakens before she can drop her guard and surrender. The pen she clutches looks more like an extension of her gaunt hands that have no time to waste when seizing notebooks off the nightstand. Pens can never keep up with the quickness of her thoughts. Whe