Searching.
The heaviness behind the eyes — which at present comes of wanting to read.
Waiting.
I would like tomorrow to be done with, complete, perfected. That seems to me the most horrible thing a person could wish — the negation of possibilities.
Aimless drifting. The steadfast refusal of the orders to resolve. Crumbling.
Tottering.
The words for noises. Fourth foot caesura. Hiatus. Focus.
Summoned, at last, to sleep.