Rare-Jelly-Bean

Another blue ceiling, shadow-choked and unfamiliar, stares back in sympathy - withered paint crackling with unshed dust and old-man's tales of long ago, a silent confidante with blown-bulb twilit wisdom - It's comfort as cold as this half-empty bed. Cataleptic - a midnight-waker with four hours lost and the ceiling is shadow-smothered, blue gone grey like old-man's ashes spread out over this dark grave of a room - dust unto dust in the throat, and coughing with all the enthusiasm of russian roulette. Pull the trigger on the TV remote to no effect - 3am and the damn thing's still dead, the traitor with screen black like a post-midn