Thursday, fatigue as I wake that does not shift despite getting up, having breakfast and taking my morning meds. My household goes to the gym, I watch TV and finally manage to write.

556
I can’t write this,
my ink clots like blood,
there is no flow 
just smears of sensed
hollowness.
This vacuum,
this echoing chasm,
this emptiness
that consumes 
my every effort
in all directions.
As a result I am inert,
fearing to move 
In body or mind. 
Action,
any movement
may jar the jammed being.
In the meantime 
I go on daubing
primeval being
to hold the space 
that is me.

                                                556 27-08-2026

The day and evening is full of violent thunderstorms. I take my meds and go to bed.