A warm look on her face
I am enveloped by her sun
I cannot remember the last time I sat in a room and thought. The mind speaks in a million voices all at once, all out of rhythm. She clears and focuses - a lens of the light fantastic. Michelle. It can never be
I do not dream of her. My subconcious is barred from her warm grasp, the neurochemical cocktail of radiance. It feels so much better when put that way.
Sleep is always hard (not as hard as waking). I tried to fall asleep early. I realized that I will cease to die one day. We all wish for it to be like an IV drip. Talking to the nurse one moment, then nothing. That will happen to me in a finite amount of time. Resolution is much easier. We all have to die somehow; future, present, past are all inevitabilities of death.