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Post decade fatigue

I didn’t sleep well last night-around four hours in all. The rest of the night I tossed and turned, my brain overloading on gristle, like a meat grinder choking on offal-the neurotic paranoia of every interminable, awful endpoint.

The silence of the universe is amplified by sleep deprivation, convincing you that a terminal empty existence awaits you if you don’t just get an hour. I look like shit, and it shows in my daily sketch-the bags under my eyes hang like a turkeys wattle.

I tied it together with the remnants of yesterdays scrawl- three enticing beach ‘babes’ flying into the sky on a magic beach towel. Feeling like a Romero castoff, it was the best I could do.

All was not lost, I worked into the evening last night on the piece for the Hive-it’s coming along splendidly, and a good solid eight hours willing, I ought to be able to complete it tomorrow. I’ll post the resultant when I do.

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