Insomnia is made of dark silk and cool, crisp air. It breathes you in and exhales only the night and the silence, a perfect endless calm. It opens portals within you, black holes of thought and perception, and lets the universe in.
Time vanishes. There is no now, no then, no ahead. There is nothing and no one at all. Only doors into souls awakened, glimmering with the time-lapsed light of long-dead stars scattered across the sleeping cities of the east, still under the waning moon.