threadlike

midnight

The screen is flickering., my riposte to that is a big yawn. I can’t watch the show that my heart desires. I’m stuck with Southpark, my witty and cursive alternative to sleep. I also have a tetris record to break. Now, where’s the DS?

the morning after

The tenebrous atmosphere is not exactly soothing to the shattering nerves at this junction of the day. It would be more practical to illuminate the room and soak myself in the art of poring over hard copies. The state of the body after fourteen hours of gruelling pacing, walking, shivering, pleasing, toiling and cogitating is one of significant ruin and debilitation. Drifting away to the world of comfort and dreams is the way to reinvigorate. I’m seldom vertical at home. My pervading rituals had been relegated to a series of distinctive sloth-inducing actions. I’ve got to carry out the chores of the day or I’ll turn into a spastic model android for the seven deadly sins.