A microaggression to the jugular. Random rabid rambling by me, a.k.a. Werwolfe. Games, books, movies and general complaints about the world. Most of it bites. The world, that is. The Den is the blog. Other pages house my attempts at writing fiction.
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
depleted
Wake up abruptly. No gradual slide and deepening breathing, no memories of dreams fading, no broadening awareness. Be awake, suddenly, your heart pounding, your breaths strained, your shoulders tight, and know without realizing that you know it's yet another day. Know your incapacity, insufficiency, weakness and stupidity, all your lacks from yesterday and the past ten thousand yesterdays weighing on your sternum, the light prodding at you, revealing you to the universe standing in judgment. You are unfit to occupy your space in bed, much less to force your way through the alien air. Wake up to stale regrets, wake up in fear that nothing has gone awry, wake up above all tired, tired, tired, every single day, every single day, every single day, decay, decay, decay, wake up longing for unconsciousness and knowing your cowardice will keep you from the solution for yet another day weighing you down, every, day, every, each, and, every, day, your chest tight and your heart strained, not even a comfortable nightmare to regain, nothing but the day, another, day, another, day, awake to yet awake to ache another dull day by day by day by day an ache a fear a dread expectant to day by day a wake, a wake, a wake, a wake, a wake
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