sab_fyn_the_light_looks_wrong sabbie lying in bed this morning waiting. i've been waiting for hours. finally, the grey light starts to seep in through the cracked and broken blind, dirty light slickly uncovering a filthy, bare room. i watch the details being revealed and wonder if the morning was a good thing. after all, the hugging, cloying air gives the room the feel of a cheap and nasty hotel. i turn my head. he is lying beside me on his stomach, face twisted away. all i can see is the back of a head and a bare expanse of back, arms raised, muscles carving in the sick light. it could be anyone. i turn away, shifting onto my side to stare at the wall. the paint was off-white, once, now handprints and spiderwebs have coated it a soft grey. i reach out to touch the dent i put in the wall, headbutting myself into wakefulness a few months ago. not a pleasant way to wake, but at least i was asleep beforehand. i wait. the room is an oven. the sheets, clean last night, are now oily, damp. my skin is sticky, anywhere it touches itself is dripping with sweat. i shove the sheet back, primarily in an effort to cool down. but, i just end up creating another barrier between me and him. he sleeps on, oblivious. i run my hand through my hair, it's wet near the scalp, the humidity is draining me. i wait. i shift again. i am covered in stench, the stench of the night i've had. the room swims with heat and humidity and that smell. it's such an animal smell. humanity broken down into its basest elememt. salt. salt in sweat and salt in blood and salt in tears. it's making me sick, not so much the smell itself, but what it stands for. a night of tossing and turning and wakefulness and waiting. i am trapped in this body, this lump of meat and i am trapped by the darkness and the dawn, bogged down, held back. still waiting uncomfotable, hot, sticky, tired. still waiting i shift again, rolling onto the other side. he sleeps on. i wait. 021016 ... fyngula into this stunning monochrome, i wake. i am him. i am this anyone. stiff-necked and groaning, i leave popsicle-colored dreams to melt down, to become puddles of gaggy sweet sugar in the desert of the room. pain. lifted arms frozen into numbness. blood still sleeping. i try to coax them into submission and fail. electric tearing as if muscles were paper. momentary misery that i close my eyes to and try to wake over again. these thoughts begin to swirl about, a past that is prolouge, a girl beside me. all the illuminated circumstances that form the images laying like a foto amongst our discarded clothes, our trail of cab sav passion. she is awake. i hear the impatience of her frustrated breathing. i think of everything that was last night, of blind fate, of fixed gazes, of stumbling impressions, of tail lights on rain-slickened roads...lines to a treasure map. she called my name as if for a second we were both lost, falling from the lives we thought we were prisoners of. we were arm in arm inside the pub, inside our skin and we pretended to know each other. and now we have perfumed this desolate room with our mistakes and find morning is the curtain pulled open to reveal them. 021016 ... sabbie he groans slightly as he starts to surface from his sleep. he moves his arms, but i think its more reflex action than awaking thoughtfullness. i can hear the creaking of protesting muscles. i roll to face him. his hair is plastered across his face, darkened and stringy with sweat. i think about reaching out to smooth it from his eyes, but in this light, in this morning it might be an intrusion. what happened last night happened, but the rules have changed with the light and the boundries have been reset and have to be respected. he shifts, moving his head, cracking his neck. i dont think that hes fully cognative yet. yet even mostly asleep, hes not the person i met last night. he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to focus on the cealing. i watch him but i dont think he realises yet. i open my mouth slightly. ive been thinking in my sleep, or something, but suddenly i have a better idea about myself, about what im doing with the years i have left. i feel like telling him "welcome to the first day of the rest of my life." but it seems odd to share this important moment with a complete stranger. i close cracked lips once more. 021019 ... totally. this reminds me of the frAnk_and_unhinged blathe 021019 ... helping sab_fyn_the_light_was_wrong 021119 ... . . 040205 what's it to you? who go blather from