i come back to this word; the dispensibility of my existence is once again apparent. these avatars of my face at night aptly depict the kind of stringent emotional state i am in. dull, angry. dull. variations of the same.
act one, i sleep restless, the sheets damp with sweat in a heaty fever dream. kick them off myself frantically. claw around in the dark trying to find them again. my eyes open half filled with fog and i find myself in disorientation. nothing appears to have changed very much when i wake. but it all felt so real. the fever dream continues in waking. i am in the kitchen with a glass of water.
in act two i am riddled with sleep paralysis. it feels like a full twelve months have passed i have tried to move just a finger—to move something to kick start the inertial movement of my body back to the control of my mind. out of the dream reality and into this one. now i am awake and the curtains have dropped, yet i am clueless still about what i should do.
it has ended. all that is left is a tremendous amount of confusion and no amount of water i drink will ever quench this thirst i have. my throat burns and will continue to burn until it is ripped apart by fire.
No comments:
Post a Comment