IV by Exsomnus

now like sleep collapsing into static—
the soft hiss between thoughts—
the TV’s ghost channel hums something half-remembered,
a wordless weather of fatigue.

white on white on white—
the sky buffering,
the mind lagging—
pixels of yesterday dissolving into soft blizzards of dust-memory.

procrastination drips, viscous, from the ceiling of time.
i try to move but my limbs are delayed transmissions,
feedback loops of maybe-later, maybe-never.

somewhere far, a voice made of snowblind vowels murmurs
wake up or go back to sleep—
i can’t tell which channel it’s on.

the soul is greyscale,
stretched thin over the endless hum,
an old tape played until the oxide flakes off.

nothing remains but the sigh of a dying frequency,
a shimmer of almost-recognition,
dissolving into the infinite nap of light.

Exsomnus is a phantom offshoot of UgUrGkuliktavikt, a delirium of exhausted noise, lowercase murmurs and blurred field recordings. It embodies the weight of unending fatigue, the fog of derealization, the slow collapse between waking and dream, the sensation of haunting your own body and never finding rest.

UgUrGkuliktavikt