The Weariness of Fear

I'm going to fall asleep right now, just like that.
Don't tell me to stay awake;
or else you'll have to listen to my stories—
all those stories I've swallowed after they burned and burned until they became iron.

It's easy to vomit up stories, but not easy to vomit up iron.
So I'm telling you again, don't tell me to stay awake; sleep instead.

When night deepens, all our old stories start growling
from inside our bellies, trying to get out.
That's why I don't let night deepen. Actually, I don't let night happen at all;
I eat a quick dinner at dusk and lie down.
If you eat late at night, and eat your fill,
sleep doesn't come easily.

I'm afraid of sleeplessness.
The one whose memory keeps coming back when sleep won't come,
I'm afraid of them too. Terribly afraid.
Being afraid makes me so very tired.