The days are filled. Neatly lined up in a gridded schedule, then filled to the brim like an ice cube tray. The all-day all-week open era is over. Yet the nights always seem flexible, unapportioned.
My eyes still work, or rather function. Serving as middlemen between the physical world and my brain’s interpretation of it. Mere input/output devices that focus, roll in their sockets, shy away from bright sunshine, and go about their days.
It is the eyes that must be cut off, shuttered, reduced to blackness when mental states shift towards sleepiness. Sleep is incompatible with receiving visual input. Certain sound and other sensory stimulation is permissible (there are no earlids, after all).
Now to relative silence, blackness, warmth, comfort, odorless and tasteless slumber.