They began to sense that something was going on a couple of nights ago.
Deep sleep, hard to wake.
The sandman's crusty cover
impossible to shake.
Groggy mornings, first evidenced only by alarm clock ignorance, eventually became concrete as paralysis set in.
Murp! murp! murp! murp! murp!
What? Shake head rattle.
Moving your legs, no more ease, a battle,
one ton limbs suddenly the norm.
Frightened concentration required for walking,
a gentle unseen hand over mouth prevents talking.
Three days later it’s just beginning to become apparent. The Nocturnal Controllers are playing their games.
Cranberry juice, cranberry juice, cranberry juice.
Nothing.
They’re actually not surprised.
That shit only works in the movies.
capsules,
try the capsules
psst...cap...s.
ules...