I will drag you out of the woodwork silent as a wraith and half as kind. See through me beyond the world. How quaint. That I have ceased existing. Watch closely the art of flagellating invisible flesh. I give birth in my vicious sleep to a vast new world. How I crave a sleep which is a vast unknowing. How I crave a little sleep without this knack knack knattering at my window panes. You make me fear that I’m insane because I see the world this way. Because exhaustion nips along when I should be careless and a mindless mass of fancy-free. I am not that person. Most days I would if I could but I can’t. I am sick to death of being lost. Of wrestling fear with all the miscellanea of living. Maybe this isn’t for me. Just breathe. I don’t know if I’m built right for this.