fubuki
the mind can never sleep
'the mind can never sleep', says an old friend, amiably scarred with gallic scorn, 'so it limps into dreams, crippled from fatigue and embarassment. it cries and sobs and moans, it succors itself with thumb-sucking fantasies (les erotiques des enfants) and neurotic tantrums of finger shadows. dreaming is the mind clutching shamefully to its own dark, soothing womb, pouring our miseries into the narcotic wine of unbounded thought.
'when you dream you are really only punch drunk on the most human liqour.'
the mind can never sleep
'the mind can never sleep', says an old friend, amiably scarred with gallic scorn, 'so it limps into dreams, crippled from fatigue and embarassment. it cries and sobs and moans, it succors itself with thumb-sucking fantasies (les erotiques des enfants) and neurotic tantrums of finger shadows. dreaming is the mind clutching shamefully to its own dark, soothing womb, pouring our miseries into the narcotic wine of unbounded thought.
'when you dream you are really only punch drunk on the most human liqour.'