The Letter.
Why you awake you silly goose?
The tail end of potent caffeination, maybe. Or my emotional foundations rumbling from the distant thunder of a stampede on another not-forgotten continent
It's hard to sleep these days.
It feels like if I had a glass of water, the surface would be rippling. Or if I put my ear to the ground I'd be able to hear it.
I just don't know if that stampede is coming near or if it's going to fade again.
There's a damn train running over the apartment in my chest and I can't sleep.
The smell of cigarettes that I can't become nose blind to.
Talking behind the walls that I can't make sense of but I hear half words.
Thankfuly it's not sadness I'm feeling. It's anticipation. Neither good or bad. Just very, very distracting.
I haven't been able to relax all night.
The letter?
The letter.
I can't imagine what you're feeling
An itching under my skin. A possibility of a way out of England but into fascism but back with my people.
Hope but doom.