The dead has kept me awake lately.
The lifelessness of my dusty past.
That should have remained inanimate.
It moves within as a block, as a whole, dropping flecks of necrosed moments.
My eyelids solidfied opened, unable to slide down on the dryness of of my eyes.
Fragments, chips, flakes falling over my irises, green becoming grey.
I have to see, I have to look.
I am awake.