Unmoving. You're an inanimate object. The air is your blanket.
Eyelids seem to be weighted down with bricks Dry everything Exhaustion outweighs uncomfort.
lying to myself
How long have you remained here. Exhaustion motivates no movement, despite curiosity. Not worth it.
An illusion? Or so you've heard. A mirage, a vague semblance of something the was once there.
Pressing, a sweeping thing, one claims to long for. Your attempts to slumber remain profitless.
no that's a lie
Soft, soft, jarring, stop. Cars outside the window. Stop. The clock, a malevolent snare drum. Stop
Senes sluggish and heightened at the same time. Hypnosis. You feel. You wait.
shattered not shattered
That's how the saying goes, correct? Like glass. But no. It's just a matter of how ard one is listening.
The air seems to quiver, with anticipation. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. You shft.
The world breaks free of its trance. A sudden thing. You let out a breath. Your surroundings do the same.
Eyes opened. An almost tedious process. Sluggish. Lethargic. Small movements.
A shiver, a soft surge as your foot touched the cold floor
You give up. Movements still gentle and slow. Movements still embedded with exhaustion. You leave.