i wake up

to see the cream-colored ceiling staring blankly back at me.

there is an ache in my neck but I let it be. the smooth wooden surface of the floor is all that feels the tip of my fingers. for a second this place is alien to me. the humid air that floods my nostrils the next moment tells me where i am. are you inspired? the question is not funny today or probably it never was. my arms move around the floor my hands reaching out trying to grab a sense of time. I stop and wonder why even bother? the time here is dry and monotonous. I turn around and spread my hands and legs out. my limbs are hard, like the wood. i stay as I am and wait for something to happen. the vibration of my phone, someone calling my name, a heavy downpour, a dog barking, a long fearful shriek or the vibration of my phone. I wait and I start to imagine my own seconds ticking off the ennui that never grows old. but nothing happens. I give up and let the flatness of this space consume me once more and I close my eyes and I wander off in my slumber.

sometime later i wake up and the cream-colored ceiling stares blankly back at me. again.