it is like a cold draft, it seeps in under doors, it crawls up your back. You shudder and wrap your self, waiting for it to take you.
i find myself in bed at 645 at 715. I find myself asleep on floors, on dog beds. Drool on my cheek, face mashed, neck stiff.
I sleep in discovering it is ten or eleven in the morning, only to curl up under a comforter again at four, or asleep in front of the tv at six.
In the middle of conversations I can feel my eyes closing despite my best effort to keep them open, books left mid sentence, a beer left warming and half full.
It gets into my bones, it buzzes like summer cicadas, it murmurs lovingly, it heats me, overtakes me, caresses me, sings lullabys and drones in my ear, sleep sleep.
Living a Life 