I've got a strange disconnect with today.
Everything is slow.
There is no wifi in my brain.
Even my fingers are slow on the keys.
The words do not curl across the pages.
I woke up and something was missing.

The pain is distant.
The world is clear.
There is no haze.
Time moves like water flowing under ice
or the creep of winter in the ground.

The world is there, but it isn't right.
I can't quite reach my patterns.
I can't touch the words or emotions that colour the world.
Writing chapters is beyond me.
Characters on the screen get no response.
My empathy is me,
but my emotions don't exist.

Pieces are shifting, ponderous and still.
I know I don't do slow.
I know I don't do still.
But I can't find quick.
There is no lightning.
It's like a rainbow gone translucent.
You know it was there,
but all that is left is clear drops.

My brain is like an old map.
There be dragons.
Empty lands.
The nothings not known.

The dreams will be weird.
Medication dreams are always strange.
Shattered glass
Liquid pools.
Thoughts that coalesce and break sharply.
Dreams aside,
I should sleep again.