2008-07-04
reaching, reaching
I've locked myself in an isolation vacation. I wake up in the morning and drink until I'm ready for my dreamless afternoon nap. Then I wake up and spend the night drinking until I'm ready for dreamless sleep overnight in a land of fog and misshapen radio waves.
That's not quite true. I have dreams but don't remember them very well. I have dim recollections of my hand reaching through fog for another hand.
And never quite touching.