A swirling fable of words in wine, the cadence ebbing and flowing as waves on the beach. Cascading from my eyes to the page below, the purple glow a living thing. Ink lies in glistening serpentine lines. My hands tremble as I fight to free the beast. In darkness I shudder, pulling my blankets ever higher, grasping, grasping, but the threads fall away to drift apart, shattered and broken on the cliffs of my dreams. And in the daylight, I remember nothing—nothing but the frantic beating of my heart as my ideas disappear into the vast void of sleep.