Going Back

I'm going back to sleep. I'm taking tranquilizers and doing what I have to for me to stick around as I promised. My claws are out; I can feel the breath of the lion on my neck. Everything spins, and all I can hear is the choir. If I sleep, I cannot plot my own demise, which is the only thing I want right now. If you're concerned, many of you have my number. I'm not waiting for you, though; that would be a fool's errand.