I’m awake. I’m asleep.

I’m happy. I’m sad.

I’m reading. I’m thinking.

I’m drinking. One more.

Last one. I’m dancing.

I’m looking at the sunset; at your face.

I’m crying. I’m walking.

I’m screaming. I’m scared.

There’s a cat. There’s a knock on my window.

I’m awake. My hands are shaking.

My hands are shaking.

My hands are shaking.

Your arms are around me.

I’m asleep.

A childish sense of desolation, like a kid who’s left out of an adult conversation. A kid whose communications are controlled by a higher authority. “Shh… don’t ask questions.” “Don’t interrupt. He’s working. Let him concentrate.” “Don’t ask questions. Ask for permission before you speak.”

Aimless and excluded. I did not know what to do. The helpless desolation came over me. I fumbled nervously as I dressed to step out.

(Inspired by The Blind Man, DH Lawrence)

Eternal escapist, in love with books, football, and long drives. Follow me on IG @ komorebi5