Not quite the tango.

This is a dance I know all too well. No instructions required.

Though my movements appear random, each stumble and yawn feels carefully choreographed. I've danced this song before.

Ah, insomnia; the constant rhythm to my world. Like an addict and her vice, I can never stray too far from your painful hold. But to close my eyes brings no relief. The darkness of my eyelids simply awakens the self-inflicted demons that feed on my half-rested mind.

Like my children in the night, as they search for the safety of my arms, I'll pursue the search for relief; a safety blanket for my adult soul...

Slow, slow. Quick. Quick...