Humidity in my nostrils, sharp cold air as my memories hunt me late at night. Insomniac, out of track, I keep coming back to them, confused, a train wreck. The ghosts whisper amongst my pillows, I lay quiet listening to them sleep, I suppress my coughing, so sick of this bullshit. When my mind goes cloudy there they are again, demon shaped or arachnids. Swollen gums and nails chipped, a nest imitating hair, dark, so dark I cannot see.. Until you came into the door, your best smile at me.