This haze.
Outrage.
I'm fumbling my words.
Who heard?
Absurd.
The kettle is steaming, screaming, wheezing...
my name.
I am.
You are.
This is.
I write in obscurities because I do not understand my own thoughts.
Vague, passive, fading.
I hold my tongue; as do you. Who will speak first?
I will...I am shouting...shouting at the skies but there is no echo in reply.
Waiting for the infection to take over.
Sitting in silence my head is surrounded by thousands of loud voices, noises. I am running. Running far and fast and yet I am at a standstill.
I'm sleepwalking.
