a collection of unprocessed thought

3 July 2016

I'm awake.

I'm laying on an unfamiliar bed that is much too uncomfortable.

I can feel the dense pressure of sickness in my lungs.
And beads of sweat are forming on my upper lip.

Staring at the ceiling: one knee up, swaying side to side, the other leg splayed over the side of the thick quilt.

Venturing over to the open window to sit on the ledge.
Feeling the cool air brush past bare arms.

Violently coughing only to feel my lungs burn once again.

I've crossed my right ankle over my left knee.

My eyes Hurt.

Stinging from a lack of sleep.