Archilochus Cloot

I wake.

My grumbling stomach has gone. I am glad of this.

But I am aware that as soon as I became aware of my grumbling stomach, I lost consiousness. Was that yesterday? Time is funny here. When the lights come on, it feels like day. A new day. But this might not be the case.

All I know for certain is that when my stomach is troubled or the area above my groin becomes uncomfortable, then that day is as old as it is going to get. By which I mean, I will wake up in, what seems to be a new day shortly afterwards.

It is strange.

I am not aware of darkness taking me. I am only aware of waking. Sleep is funny like that.

The drawing and the other fragments have gone from under my pillow.

I stare at a blue eye for a long time. I feel uncomfortable first and have to lie on my side.

It seems that the watchers never feel uncomfortable. I am amazed that their eyes don’t dry out. They never blink. Ever

Either that, or they blink when I do.

The light is making my head ache.

The pain is just above my eyes. It’s a gentle warm pain at the moment.

This surely must indicate that a new day is about to begin.

The blankets smell clean. I push my face into the mattress. They always smell clean.

My headache is a slow beat. Cats jumping off a wall onto a glass roof. Over and over again. I count cats. One, two…