The edges of thought have spun.
Vertiginous, I awaken torpidly
in the curling of thought.
With I in its vortex,
circulated around its core
so fast that I barely exist
like fans spinning
at the speed of stillness.
Rolling in slow motion
across the bed, my body’s
barely able to coordinate itself
through the swirling I, tossed
in the currents of thoughts unfurling.
The velocity increases and
gradually becoming lucid,
the perfect centre draws me
into a sunken memory of
the sleeping nights return.
