I lie in bed; the weight of my body sinks to the sediment; I press against the mattress; I am a ragdoll full of sand; sand pouring down, eeking out; all this empties with a long exhale and the bed parts like a bead curtain, letting me fall until I am weightless; I sense a motion that envelops me as I tip forward, ever so slowly; ever...so...slowly...my whole body bowing like a reverent head; my feet rise behind me with souls curved upward and receiving; I roll, suspended by a talisman in the navel, rolling through the edgeless dark; aware of falling and the tingling of limbs as blood trickles down through the honeycomb of veins; my bones rhubarb stems, red and supple and fibrous, give out to the weight; my body unraveling and undulating; rippling hair in motionless waters; there is no noise but a sonic feeling; the pull of a endless bow across endless string; constant hum vibrating; within and without collapsed in my languid pirouette; the palm of my hand spread across my whole frontice; falling, my position sensed with flickering ridges of filiform hair; rolling onwards into nothing; slowly a picture comes to mind, a message from a watchful envoy out there; I see my body from afar in its gentle tumble, cartwheeling in oblivion; a tiny stringless marionette in the black inside my head, my head turning downwards inside this endless valt; completely upturned; wide-eyed head peering into black; the scene fading as dawn washes over night with gradual strength, I return to the textures of my bedding, most prominently sheet touching forearms, quilt collecting around neck and pajamas creasing beneath splayed inner thighs; I am returned to my horizontal horizon, placed back in my body but inert, shrunken inside myself; my casings grown thicker and more numerous, distancing me from my exterior as a sanctum is distanced from the battlements; still this falling continues in the cavity of my torso; no longer an ocean but concentrated in a drop; whirring like a dreidel; and then a great hissing pressure from above, pressing down; opening like an eyelid in the dead space above my bed; a great fan of liquid mercury; suspended oil slick expanding in baroque variations; helical tendrils tipped with acid iridescence; folds and follicles reaching down to me; a moth; flame; a pewter owl; looming over me and reaching down in plastic flanks; so close and ever so nearly unfurled; ever...so...nearly...like the foil blanket they crumpled about my shoulders when they evacuated the swimming pool; but its glimmers are mother-of-pearl, it weighs ten-thousand tonnes and with hissing pressure it pushes down on me in a silvered embrace; it crackles crystalline static and fizzes into phosphenes and I am gone; I...am...gone.
Morning: I cannot express it. Mother says I suffer from the cramps. I am to eat a banana before bed. The potassium will help with the growing pains.
