…always most awake at points of ending, then rising tired to the world – a continuum reversed.
[…]
…when we hit the bed, the head begins; the brain coming on inside the worn down body as if to spite it, to remind the flesh that it contains something inexpressible, uncontainable, to itself; the persons hid inside our person coming on at our softest moment, ready, at last, to reign. The brain inside this shape might seem to seethe against the inside of the skull, warming hard against the pillow in the gel of uncontrollable impending thought: the body’s fleshy defense defused by its own system of alarm. Hello, it says. How are you. I knew you’d come around. Here you’ve been pretending I and all the thoughts you’ve been avoiding weren’t here, or could fuck off. Now you’re tired. Open. Now you’re mine.
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