Solidity. Consequence. Construction and turbulence all seem to point to the same thing. They all converge in a neon flash of every color in visual sequence so bright it overloads the brain into just seeing a blackness of intensity.
Derailed thought. Shunning discipline. Why am I still awake? The Sleep Monster is here with me, looking over my shoulder to see if I write about him, because he gets excited when I talk about his new braids and the green skin with the red pustules. He thinks they're pretty. I think he looks diseased, but the braids are nice.
