40 what i talk about when i need more sleep

i am currently caught in the middle of one of the few moments when time is passing slowly because it's bearing its weight on my heavy eyelids. the sun is streaming through my curtains and onto my face but i am unable to feel anything of the warmth except the humidity of dread. i want to write something but i have nothing to write about even though there are billions of things in the world, maybe the answer is to stop thinking in numbers. i want to smash a window and watch the panes of glass turn blue and become part of the sky which looks unusually clear today so why is my mind usually clouded and hazy? because i am not really a part of the sky or anything else at all but my own being and soul, if i have a soul. the houses in my head are all blind with net curtains and ugly mismatched furniture. responsibility has done nothing except cripple me and now my eyelids are heavy with the sun and time bearing their weight upon them. my eyes are going to burst and nobody will really notice. i suppose that's the average punishment for somebody who asks these questions and tries to break things until their fists are bloody or for the person who craves sleep. i need to drift off now for a number of days weeks months years until the world wakes me up and there are flowers instead of pavements again and unslaughtered cattle trotting down dirt roads instead of people and their cars.