At some point sleep will have to happen. I work in six hours for seven hours. With children. The children of middle america in all their sex-starved television pap addled flag-waving glory. This is not looking very positive. The sky outside is an ugly orange bruise and I missed my chance at dancing this month.<\/p>\n
Maybe I need someone to curl up with. A warm thing to hold me and breathe with limbs entangled, legs scissored together, hands caught in hair. I can’t claim it would help, but it’s the thought that slips under my eyelids when I lie awake in the dark tonight. The only change I can think of. It’s not that I’m not tired. I am frankly exhausted, but in spite of the pillows and the blankets and the twisted piles of velvet and silks that I’ve been filling my bed with, it still feels empty. There’s an absence, like I might reach out and feel fine desert sand where my sheets should be. Hollow spaces reaching to the horizons of my room with the voice of an empty heart. <\/p>\n
I’m so cold tonight. I’m considering making hot chocolate but to leave my room would be to admit defeat. Chilled skin and stiff fingers, I’m curling in on myself to save heat. There’s plenty of blankets but no warmth. This could also be part of the problem, but I suspect it’s more symptomatic. I notice because right now I notice everything. The texture of the comforter, the way my earring catches on Prospero’s fur, the weight of my teeth, the taste on my tongue that tells me my body needs to heal and rest. It’s a peculiar feeling, being aware of the mattress depressing with the weight of this thinking meat. I don’t like it very much.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
At some point sleep will have to happen. I work in six hours for seven hours. With children. The children of middle america in all their sex-starved television pap addled flag-waving glory. This is not looking very positive. The sky outside is an ugly orange bruise and I missed my chance at dancing this month. … Continue reading “I suppose I’ll try again”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1039","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1039","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1039"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1039\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1039"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1039"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1039"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}