at_night otterpup i smell damp in the walls and i have to lie on my right side so my nose doesn't choke on the mould and i have to turn my light on again once it's gone out ride the waves of sleep and awake at least twice before i give up but sleep is coming again and i wonder if i like that really what is sleep other than wasting life really anyway? ahh, but we need it to live catch 22 and the room reminds me of the one i grew up in and i'm strangely home again this could be the beginning of a wonderful friendship and she sails the walls of the inside of her brain and the walls around her sail the boundaries of her world and her dreams are coloured blue and her words grow real breath goes in and breath comes out and i find i have to pay less attention each time it happens 050213 ... werewolf and the night on all sides without sides is damningly vast and so indifferent as to make one beg and resent in one same dark-wine laden question - is it right to feel so heavy and inconsequential - inconsequential- the night as a abstract noun, as in the other night - at a distance our mind retains heavy- and the night as in drowning, the womb, the black death, crying and discussing in rooms that line it like honeycombs and catacombs as liminal as stars - the nearness the mind has no means to divorce itself of. one dark-wine laden question among a sea of the like, the tarry sweltering lungs that breath in the entire sky while most sleep - what is this night, where does it go when it goes? 050213 ... whitechocolatewalrus she_wishes 050213 what's it to you? who go blather from