lost in slumber for too long, the blanket which pours a mist over my consciousness is lifted. suddenly the mist clears and i think i can see once more. for i have forgotten what it was like to be able to think after the day was done, that time could be seen in stolen snatches and fluidity, that it need not be compartmentalised into a regimented number of days and into a life that has been broken up into passages of time waiting to be lived out.

get lost, this poor imitation of a life. this poor pretence of living that hoodwinks every consumer into believing you to be the sacred vial everyone should drink from.

get lost, thoughts of sinking into bed arising every time the need to live out this poor pretence comes up.

instead, valour, impart and take over.