(no subject)
I've been walking through a haze for days. The airborne dust swirls around me in slow motion, obstructing my vision so that I can hardly see an arm's length away. Just beyond those limits I discern vague symbols, strange words in ancient tongues. My senses are dull, my thoughts are confused, molten together like metals in a furnace. My breath catches over and over again in my throat, unable to reach my lungs through the something that has congealed in its path. It's like fear of the unknown, or of the has-been; it's like a sudden disease attacking a so-far-healthy body; it's like walking through a familiar room in the dark and bumping into walls where there were none. I need to not-sleep, I need to not-think, and in those at least it seems that I'm successful.