. // THE INSOMNIAC'S CALENDAR. )

[sinensys]

the behemoth's stunted eye glints in malice, a capricious will revealed. its unsettling rattle breaks the silence only occasionally, only as i resurface from the depths of my own imagination. the idle sounds of quelling fantasies supply me with oxygen and, with time, the weight of the water's insistent pressures fades into a familiar sensation; i stay beneath the surface, sedated and soothed. wrought in fantasy, i am exposed to the behemoth's intents, a goat in a panther's playpen.

how long before i wake up and exist in my own body?

[sinensys]

in pursuit of some
unsightly dream,
i thrashed about my own brainpan,
a vigor struck by panic.
now i no longer
recognize
the unsettled shapes in which i
drew paths and pitfalls.
no longer am i
desperate
to escape my initial path
charted in numbness.
no longer do i
seek
to reshuffle the deck
from which my hand was dealt.

if only i could
source
the plans and paths
daydreamed.

[sinensys]

is this the relief
of finding a long-sought
explanation?
or is this the relief
of finding a long-sought
excuse
to absolve me of my
past transgressions
and disconnections?

[sinensys]

something within me chides the self --- i should have known pissing you off would wind me up. now here i lay, brow furrowed without my consent, a scowl unauthorized. she suggests that i should soften up, but truly i want nothing but to keep my door closed and isolate myself. of all days to piss me off and keep me awake, you chose the day before class? do i dare skip it and avoid the sleep-deprived drive, even knowing that it may be the only way for me to truly get anything done?

[sinensys]

it is entirely
possible
that i belong
where i am
because i belong
where i am headed.

but how the lights
flicker maddeningly
along the paths
forward.

[sinensys]

the great shame of absence,
the daedal mechanism wrought by
the stunting fear of appearance ---
how often i have felt anxious
at the thought of missing out
yet still felt felt anxious
at the thought of being perceived.
the cyclical thrashing of that
benign parasite consciousness
falls in place unfaltering, like clockwork,
ad nauseam ---
that mechanical motion sickness.
one day these barren floors
will have been tessellated in
fine ornaments of growth and connection.
for now i can only survive until
the next crossroads.

[sinensys]

the broken racehorse,
downtrodden,
finally makes its way
up the staircase.
at the very top,
the horsehead mask
slips,
and the threads begin
unwinding.

it never was
a racehorse,
but the external praise
upheld the internal jumps,
and so it ran,
blinders turned
forwards and downwards.

[sinensys]

even unmasked, i still mourn
the racehorse
and its past
victories.
how fast i could go
through gates
and around barrels ---
when i found myself
unwilling to pass
any given obstacle,
i simply
bet on myself.
the gain received
was only ever
psychological,
and that gain suited
me the most.

with loose threads,
i still find myself
attempting to
bet on myself,
over
and over again.
but the racehorse,
if only a psychological state,
will not win
the way it used to.
i will do
well enough,
but it is not the
racehorse's victory.
and for that i will
mourn it,
even when i have done
well enough
to consider the endeavor
a victory.

[sinensys]

the paths unfurling, i am stood before the chasm: once more the decision taunts me. i stood waiting for rains, for sigils cast upon me --- every chance to wait i have been given i have taken. i hum into the depths and from the depth comes no echo; only reverberations accompany my iterated thrumming.

the sound does not return and order me into motion the way a scout's shout might before its commanding officer. but how long does the posted man wait before straying from unseen orders, emboldened by the lack of authority?

ex nihilo nihil fit --- but what does parmenides know about the way i have endured the chasm's call to stillness, silenced only by my very self?

[sinensys]

the benign gods ejected,
and the malignant, destroyed ---
such is the way of the divine usurper.
all that remains is
that which skirts around the self,
that benevolent chaos
wrought of indulgence in
the face of unintentional
righteous self-sabotage.
from this bountiful whirlwind
a path is drafted,
bricks beginning to bolster
the charted plan ---
even if the desire to build
new paths continues
its amalgam churn.