chasing_sleep raze you lie on your back on a bed not so different from your own. imagine one of those circular ceiling beams prying itself loose and crushing you until the jam oozes out of your brain. a prairie dog screams on a flat-screen tv. you can't hear the words, but you get the message. there are different animals on other screens. a white rabbit. a black cat. a turtle. "that's you over there," a distant salesman tells someone who doesn't want to buy the shit he's peddling. "and this is me." you walk past leather couches and round tables. stare at your reflection in a full-length mirror. smile at all the grey. trust five different mattresses with your weight. pillow top. memory foam. hybrids. you don't know what the last one is made of. you only know it's twice the price of the first and it makes you want to close your eyes and drift to some place you'll never be found. bulging brass letters on the west wall invite you to fall into what you've been chasing all this time. you hope you can. 240314 what's it to you? who go blather from