Insomnia

Another old one - May 12, 2004.

Mood: Exanimate
Music: Radiohead - Idioteque

Fine line between reality and fiction blurs at the tick of the second hand; it beats, piercing through the noise of the living, tick, tock, tick, tock, weathering away your mortality. Stare into blank space, wonder what you're really looking at. What are these voices in my head? What do you want from me? This isn't some weird paranoia, this is limbo.

Time is an abstraction in a world of definites. Tick tock tick tock, it reminds you of its presence. Vision is smeared, the words stop making sense, I can't remember anything. I've lost track of dimensions and space, I'm swimming in galactical abstractions. The only thing permeating into the mind right now is the tick and the tock, and the loud drone of the music emerging from somewhere behind me. I close my eyes. Black. Stay shut... take me away into unconsciousness. No, you won't... masochism disguised by what seems to be a taunting sadistic endeavor, curses. Reality seems so far away... the exam in the hours ahead, responsibility, the concerns of the living... So far away they seem fictional. Tick tock tick tock. Oh they're quite real. Take me away. Take me now.