Confusion, depletion

Bloody lesion, trepidation

Adoration for all this nonsense.

Number fifteen

Messy quarantine

It was fighting.

You don’t have to make sense

To make cents.

Sometimes you just don’t have time to sort out your thoughts, or just plainly can’t be bothered to. Today is one of such times. I apologize in advance if I don’t make sense, though I rarely do, anyway. So if you fear for your own sanity, please leave this vicinity.

I have a vague urge to fall asleep during any part of the day, these few days. It isn’t just the days – the nights are no better. But of course there is the thing that I do sleep, quite adequately I say, though sleepiness is by no means related to sleepfulness.

And there’s also the living dead syndrome that occurs predominantly during the wee hours of early morning, when the sun is dead as well. Not so a good thing, this is. And because of my intense dislike for such a troublesome disease, I would rather go to sleep than to be bothered.

So, nothing solved, nothing gained.

And I complain.

Minor mindache – numbing pain. I want to sleep so long and good that when I wake up, I wouldn’t want to sleep ever again. But that only increase the longing, because absence makes the heart fonder.

And again, I complain.