I see the image of my brain imposed on the face of a big round clock with the hands moving at a snail’s pace. There’s many, many things to be anxious about, all of which are out of my control. I feel a mix of loss, sadness, anger and rancid shock. The angst is growing as time passes. I’m tired, yet I fear sleep. I dread what dreams may come. Many a night like this I have survived. This one is just so pronounced. Don’t speak. Please, don’t speak. Let the silence fix me. I know how to be sad. Let me rest my heavy head wherever it falls and may this time tomorrow be the birth of a new age.