i should see the empty white ceiling when i'm lying down on the coldest floor, but i saw the peeking of the dark, and my eyes — wide open — were not helping.
the morning may outrun the dreams again. if it would be another guilt for not sleeping or something else, something new, i was too unmoving and blank to know.
i have been keeping the blinds closed. it would make the unseen brightness of the outside hurt less, but the strong winds swept them open, and i thought it did not matter.
i saw the peeking of the sunrise and for the first time — or at least in a while — i saw how the morning was moving and filling out for me, for each creature. i felt something else, something new.
something.