seventy nine
laundrysleep is difficult without the expulsion of salted oceans from the depths of your eyes. as you sleep your eyelids are covered by a thick layer of saline solution as you descend into the depths of your subconscious bleary eyed and everything is beautiful. everything is different here. everything has been simplified into little pieces, much like what a kind teacher in your elementary school would have done in a dry period like math. but your eyes are so bleary that you can hardly make out the solution to your problem. bit by bit they fall into place but then red warmth filters through your closed eyes and you are awake. and what is left from your dream are a lot like memories you forced yourself to forget a long time ago and when you try to dredge them up from the bottom of the sea you are left with distorted fragments and a lack of clarity. and the cycle repeats itself like disgruntled housewife alone with her washing machine and a basket perpetually full of clothes she would never wear.