Listening to: A really loud bug hitting the window pane.
Reading: Trashy novels to pass the time.
Watching: My dog curl up against my pillow.
Eating: Not much.
The strange sleep has come back to me.
I denied it attention for so long. but now it's come back too easily, it's as if I had my arms open wide.
It's so strange; in the early morning hours, to be tossing and turning, seeing you next to me, sleeping soundly.
Watching your chest.
Now I sit here in the last hours of the late morning, and it feels like the sun is still rising.
Cigarette pressed between my lips, I'm not sure if I'm awake. Perhaps this is all a fantastic dream; this loss of rest; and I'm really just in a coma. Resting, with the occasional visitor that I'm unaware of.
But their intentions are kind enough.