Midday and billowing curtains, faded yellow and crimson. Numbness on the fingers. The mails go unchecked. Weighing on my eyes are half dreams, half memories. Doors sliding. Drawers shutting. Deospray. Fading footsteps. Such things overwhelm me. As if I were an ancient Adam, just launched into the wilderness, arms flailing for the lost home. How would one paint this? Wave after wave of crimson fills my palette. Like sin. Like raging anger. Like relentless love. But for now, let me sleep. There was a time of awakening. And there will be a time for sleeplessness too. But for now, I will sleep.
Posted in Flotsam