The Old Peppercorn Tree

A deep sleep consumed me, wrapped around all sides like a flowing stream of infinite silk.

Heads turned down; rushing in a hurry down the stairs.
But out of all of them I see you.
Standing upright like the rest, yet so different to all the others.
You fascinate me, I try to watch closely but feel as if I am afar.

And now I sit, unmoving.
The epicentre of my own downward spiral.
Unwilling, unchanging; staring desolate into the void.
Bored into unproductivity.
Feelings of loathing arise.
The great pleasure of completion fades.