My sleep deficit bothers me. The vague feeling of being in a state of ill-health jiggles and niggles in that space between skull and scalp. The sort of exhaustion that cracks your voice and makes it sound like dry gravel. The sort of exhaustion that turns limbs into liquid. A sort of thick and creamy soup, I imagine. I just want to lay down my weapons and surrender. and sleep nice and long. I give up, okay? Now let me be.

Hot eyelids burn.