Murky waters, moldy food: the stuff of dreams and nightmares.
The aether of the unconscious mind—a sort of viscous mixture of pure energy and vitality.
Sleep is the null.
Sleep, rewiring the mind, stitching together disconnected parts to form a new whole.
In this sleep, I am most aware.
Without sleep, merely an empty shell dragging its own stiff, fungal, disease-ridden carcass
along ancient, well-worn grooves marking deep scars across basalt fields.
A long-abandoned carapace, made useless in absence of its former host,
still bearing vestigial tendrils of muck and flesh
once animate with seeping, flowing, beating blood.
Awash with silence, stillness, quiet, closing the eyes, halting the mind, waiting—
wetting the lips in calm anticipation, asking for a kiss of air betraying another’s presence.
Is he still here? is he still watching?
Nothing.
Sleep
origin: Aug 1, 2017 @ 8:14am
until: 2025-08-11