half awake

I don't know what I want to say. Something profound, of course, though I'm not much good at that. I just want to feel real again. I listen to the morning birds. I try to take note of the funny, flowered sprouts in my too-long grass. It's all sideways. I sleep poorly for weeks, sleep too deeply for weeks. I drag the trash can down the gravel driveway and try to set my steps to the rumble of the…