Weird missives from a sleep deprived booze soldier

As a devout insomniac I find sleep to be a fragile and personal thing, a baffling oxymoron: victory through surrender. This may have been why when on the arduous coach journey home I felt an almost overwheming desire to kiss the sleeping passenger next to me, just a small delicate kiss on her lips, like some deviant prince charming with boundary issues.

I never did it btw.

i need a nap (and a girlfriend)