No Sleep

No sleep is a matter of habit. After a few days of it I drift into the perceptions of a dreamer, slipping among objects in a viscous fluid. The inner voice is vigorous, but when I speak out loud trails of logic wander away. A few moments of sleep recharge the cycle, sloughing off layers of fatigue. Each time I reawaken I’ve brought back bits and pieces from my childhood, to see for the first time from the outside.