Subdermal ink blots.
They could be dirt or bruises,
From where I'm standing.
The title is a little disingenuous. Sleep is not a big issue, but I feel the Internet is always pulling me away from sleep, or at least from any kind of mental repose. If the content seems dull or silly or shallow, I blame the lack of sleep.
Too much butterbeer;
Runs down my leg; these damned robes.
Accio penis!
The fourth house thing didn't work out. So I'm renting a while, within walking distance of the first childhood home I remember; a walk too from the coast.
My view has changed.
Swarms of pale, scantily clad yoof heading for the beach in Bournemouth yesterday. A thinner, pinker trickle coming back the other way.
The sound of a distant moped resolved into a hornet flying through my bedroom window at 6am. Beautiful insect, which fortunately left voluntarily.