bad dream scribble

dark room, in the middle in the night. suddenly he’s awake. the nightmare still crawling under his skin, rapidly retracting under the layer of questions. where? why? how?

it’s  a roach running for the shadows.

he breathes heavily. inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. the panting drowns in tears, mauling the rhythm in his chest. why? the bad dream rushes deeper. why? deeper. tears… ripping noise in his throat. then he realizes it is his own voice, not resisting anymore.

he can’t remember. what was that about? it’s nearly gone.

the custodians of his mind save him. again.

2:30. am. the alarm will go off at 6.

the display projects to the ceiling. too bright. he rolls over, now facing the wall. he doesn’t blink. why the crying? he can’t imagine, why he’d burst into tears…

eyes stinging and burning. he waits for sleep to pull him under again. it blurs his mind. clouding up the rest of him. darkness. silently approaching, muffling and slowing his breathing.

electrical storms ignite behind his eyelids, locked in, defibrillating memories in neurons and muscles.

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