In Somnia It's Very Dark This Time Of Year...

Lacking the ability to dream, lacking the motivation to do anything but try and sleep, wandering through a haze of thoughts and heavy eyelids and limbs and not being in control of an imortant part of your life. Stumbling around, splashing water on troubled eyes with desperate black concentric circles both under the eye and in the pupil, round and round and round and round.

Trapped in a massive inadmissable run-on sentence that has no end in sight, but you're not looking very hard, and there are tempers rising inside your head, your heart, your lungs. Struggling with hyperventilation and a swaying knee that might not really be swaying but is causing a stumble in step, even when you're laying down, and your mouth is a desert coated with a bland tasteless paste that needs quenching, badly.

You can't move and if you did you don't know how far you can make it in this confused and rambling state and you can't understand your own speech and your mind tricks itself into thinking it's asleep. Your trance becomes a dream and you can't see an end to all that either. Where am I and who am I are easy enough to answer, but when you prase it in a different way, you have no idea what you're talking about anymore.

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