And all of this...

The black dog (Churchill), the heaviness (Dangerfield).  To be always clawing out or sinking in.  The only real feeling involved is exhaustion, that and boredom, which is not really a feeling at all but rather the negative space around feeling, or the drapes that shut tight around a window and can't, for some reason, be opened.  It becomes difficult: to live, to work, to love, to be loved.  Thoughts slip away.  The mind lacks incisiveness.  In the trench with slight dementia, amnesia, synaesthesia, whatever.  And all I ask is: what to do?