you stop fearing death once you stop dreaming, and treat sleep like a cruise-ship holiday of complete darkness - i mean, who'd drag imagination down into the unconscious to create dreams, rather than keep it boiling conscious of limbs and skeleton in being awake, and write a poem or two? i know, when restrictions come, cashier no. two thousand and five hundred, when people are shoved into pits and black holes they recreate their imaginative spirit in sleep, they dream... imagination not utilised in the waking hour is worth a bundle of entertaining patterns, as in: how does light enter utter darkness? the most vivid dreamers are the most unimaginative people, esp. with conversation starters, let alone main meals (relationships), and desserts (commuter silences and lost eye-contact).*

i write                                                 because
                   i don't
   like                                     talking.