February 20, 2022
Something strange happens when I sleep too much. I think maybe it’s winter and the way it feels more allowed, the staying still, staying shrouded, half hidden by curtains I cannot close all the way or else who knows how long it might go on, all the purposeful time spent salivating over split seconds in another world and it's not that I prefer one place to the other, though I suppose that’s the problem, it’s that I’m after the unreal, the blurred bodily chaos that comes with waking in the evening and sleeping while the sun is up and everyone else is up with it. They are there and I am here and the separateness of it surges through me like a stiff slap of surreality and the sting, it seems, is a feeling I want to swallow like water.
