my bones are cold right through

This week has been a solvent, slowly but surely dissolving the glue that had somehow, thus far, managed to hold me together. Things fall apart, and all things move toward their end — on that you can be sure. But fresh connections will form, and new sequences will begin — of that, too, we can rest assured.

That is, if we can procure an opportunity to rest at all.

My body quivers even as I type, exhibiting ever-increasing symptoms of slipping into shock. As surely as grapes turned to gold before Midas could take one taste, any morsel of food that scrapes its way past violently chattering teeth turns to chalk the moment it touches my tongue. All the while, these sensations center around a body that I seem to occupy without ownership, and I feel all but certain that I am being crucified for someone else's sins, but I could undoubtedly escape it if only... if only.... ohhhh why, why, why is sleep so undeniably crucial?

Yet, while I lie awake night after night because sleep does not will it, irony clubs me like a baby seal as I realize that although hours of insomnia are butchering me, they are also the only moments of peaceful solitude that I get now.