Rudder heart torn in three

Clattering blinds in the late night gusty wind that, gratefully, cools those living on the escarpment edge, and frightens away nervous, dawn-avoiding mosquitoes.
Waking up at 3, with anxious tendrils winding and wiling into by core, clutching, tugging at my intestines, I hesitantly drown a relaxant in the dark before sprawling across my mattress and darkly spending an hour and half's meticulously planning. That leaves me exhausted, but strong and resolved. And my rudder firm.
On another (love) note, tonight, my heart is torn in three: it's Gone with the Wind