Dawn like a slow-motion shattered glass

The night is gone now.

Light is just cresting the edge of moutains siloutted in black from lack of starlight, gold from candlelight trapped in enormous glass globes. Slowly, the light expands; slowly scatters pale green dust across the atmosphere. Broad brushstrokes of pale yellow, orange, and off-white burn through chrome clouds that block smatterings of the horizon from my window here.

Another morning shakes black and blissful peace from the edge of myself. My mind has been burning all night, despite the cold tumbling down across the hardwood floor from two open windows. I claim I haven’t slept a wink, but the world has been awake all night. I can only claim to have gone out once or twice, under the covers, under the influence, under REM.

Disappointed, I dreamt of nothing but the backs of my dim eyelids.
Disillusioned, I don’t want to wake up yet.
But neither does anyone, so quit your belly-aching Kopia.

Shiver, shake, and wait. The synaspes are snapping, just barely connecting. The flesh is tearing, burning, cauterized and left wide open. A hole dug out with scizzors and nasty words collected over time has been cut deep enough to last me a lifetime.

One day, I’ll fill this in with nicer things.
For now, these fantasies of the things I know I shouldn’t, couldn’t, don’t, won’t exactly want are nice enough to entertain. Like a dream from which I’m still only half-awake.
I like the feeling so much I’m terrified.
My limbs may never come back to life.
And with them, what else will I lose to that half-light?

I said I don’t believe in a lot of things, but that’s a lie. Often in the deepest holes, the wind catches me off guard. And yet, even I know how to close my eyes and lean into the coming storm.

An indiscernable draft in here is changing, I think.
Now I’m just listening for which way to go.
The ghosts, yokai, spirits or souls will all, eventually, let me know.
Soon…
soon.
soon

For now, lie back and listen to the host, the quarel, the knot of little sparrows outside the windowsill. You may find you’re amazed at the things you hear while simply waiting…

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