At times, there is a feeling of languid numbness that spreads so deeply through me that I can feel it down to the core of my enervated soul. I envision it spreading through my mind as synapses; weaving in and out of the fissures and crevasses of my skin; coursing through my protuberant, ultramarine veins. When I feel this frigid, icy numbness biting at my torpid being, I find that I am unable to cry.

And then when I at last unfetter the azure gloom that I had retained with utter nescience, the disconsolate droplets spilling from my eyes fail to cease.