Regaining Unconsciousness

Are there animals that do not sleep?

—chiara cirelli and giulio tononi

Too late to break our fall, we land on pointlessness, eternal void of feeble souls. Safe for now, but beyond rescue. Our trials continue with inexhaustible fire as we reckon the damage. Shriveling fruit, curdling scars, shrinking flesh, eroding earth and bone. Wasted bodies sprawl where they drop, in fields lit up, harsh, bright, as survivors retreat to tighter formations. 

Later, regaining unconsciousness, we toast the drought with dry martinis. We play to lose and drink to get sober. Lasers restore blank looks misplaced in cracked mirrors. Doubtful clouds seek carefree rainbows. Expert handlers adjust our autonomy and send us back into the fray.