by Trenchcoat Tardigrade

It happened… again;

                    for the last time… maybe;

Voices, clicks, and chimes murmur indistinctly from elsewhere in the dark… this darkness… my void. There was movement, but no longer — now a memory of what was in days before; when light shone, when life flowed, when time strode…

                    It came with the dawn, with a crash, with collapse.

The haze came not when my eyes lost the light, but when they opened to the darkness — the first time… of the many… of the innumerable.

I wait in hopes that the next time I sleep will be the time it doesn’t happen… again;

                   for the last time… maybe;