Midnight. A migraine of senses and if I just lie still enough I can begin to separate them.
The crashing hum of the pedestal fan as it seeps, like water, through the pillow I have so desperately wrapped around my head, drowning me in a single sensation. Round and round it goes, happily buzzing as it constantly completes its purpose. A single journey of endless rotation.
And if I lie really still I can feel the very atmosphere of the room moving. The air is cool as it whispers across my skin. While it touches my arms, it moves against something deeper, touching me in places I never want a lover to reach. A hard part amongst the softness, questioning. Asking me how I got like this and why something so cold and numb can feel so much. Reminding me that the scars on my skin are so much deeper.
Strange how a breeze can make you feel so exposed.
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