How redundant can one get - writing about not being able to sleep in one's sleeplessness?
Oh, let's be redundant, baby.
Every toss and turn ought to have been with you between my sheets. My wakefulness ought to have been caused by those hands that would not keep to themselves, by the comfortable disarray of togetherness.
But I can't sleep for the wrong, uncomfortable reasons. Sleeping alone at the age of reason ought not to be allowed. Sleeping alone ought to be by choice, not by consequence.