48 hours cross-post.

for those that don't know, I signed up for Another 48 Hours 2, in which a group of bloggers is given a subject to write about, and 48 hours to write it in. there's a link on the sidebar, and here's my entry for this week:

winter light streams through useless blinds, filling a pink room with grey, and irritating the sleeper within.
roll. shuffle. wake. grasp uselessly at the trailing edge of a pleasant dream (all surrey bridges wash out; I am free of suburbia forever.) release the last trailing tendrils, and submit myself to the waking world, one sense at a time:
ears first; close by is the ticking of my wristwatch, parked on the nightstand. no schoolchildren outside, no cars on the road, no footsteps upstairs. Strain to make out a vague sound, wait, wait... it's just Dad snoring.
nose is clogged. fuck. no smells.
mouth. I don't want mine right now - last night's beer and morning breath form a film on the inside. dry tongue meets hard palate, and it feels like an alien world inside my head.
skin: I am alone, but warm, encapsulated in leopard-print.
lastly, eyes: pink room. jungle creatures on the wall. stupid hand-me-down furniture. home.

roll again, to check the time (6:40am).
shift, and return to slumber.