Forty Eight Hours.

My mind, pages of a book of my body,
My senses scribble over it consistently,
Millions of storms,
I feel consumed yet there isn't an end.

Who would stare to the watch whole night,
When world is dark and dead.
But thousand of time, my tireless eye does in search of what i really don't know,
And yet i am devastated when whole world awakes,

I am all consumed all bit and pieces,
Still dawn light didn't save me yet,
The longest and deepest of sleep i seek
But limitless energy keep me wide open which i never find when i want to close.

What is so wrong?
I try to settle down for the quickest answer i could find,
Yet i am blank, devastated and consumed,
So big, a hell swallowed me throughout.