bone-tired

so incredibly tired, i can hardly move. all i want is to curl up against the warmth of sleeping bear, with a good book (proust?) and a cup of tea (lapsang souchong). i want to lie on a thick carpet and slowly dangle my feet in the air. i want to watch the sun make light bunnies on the wall. to doze and dream thick creamy dreams, filled with unicorns and porcupines.

i want to stand very still, deep in the winter woods, and let the white silence settle on me, let it seep right into my being until i too am only white silence, until all i can hear is the beat of my own heart and the whispering of the tide of blood in my veins.

mostly, i just want to sleep.