It's cold, it's hazy.
I don't know what I'm doing.

In, out.  Black, white.
Startled by the awareness of time that's passed by.

How much?

Doesn't matter, there's plenty to spare.
Or is there?

Black, visions, quiet.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, feel, see.

Can't see.  Where?
There are no questions here.  Right? questions.

White, time, now.  Black.
Falling, falling, floating down in a black ocean, slowly.

Time has no meaning here, for it is ever-changing,
ever-flowing, quickly through blurred space in slow motion,
waiting for no one, carrying the echoes of voices both garbled
and clear.

Fading, fading.  Someone.

Rush, white, numb.

It's fuzzy, but it's getting clearer.  As clear as it can.

Notice the red scars, scars this way, that way.
Feel then, pressure, pink, black.  Black.

Nothing, nothing.  A searing pain!  White, red.
Silver, red, silver, drip.  Drip.  Colors fly everywhere.

No escape.  Falling, falling again, No! falling, down.

Down, black.  Black, black, black, forever, forever, never.
One day, during high school gym class, we did not have to do anything if we did not want to.
I don't recall why, but I was very tired that day, so I decided to sleep.

I originally wrote this poem about the experience of waking up.
I had been sitting, and was bent over with my head down.
It was an awkward sleeping position for me, and it left sleep lines on my face.