Chill greyness no Chill greyness, curdling slowly against a sky of empty darkness no Under my fingers, coarse sand scratchs and matts my fur no My mind.. fractures. shards... assembled into something new and horrible. no. Ophidian. I am not myself no I am not all here no I try to scream. I cannot. no My mind has been forced into a new vessal, broken again, spread out on this sand.  I feel mud and sand and damp empty fog poisoning my existance. my mind. my soul. no I ... ( but who is this I? ) I try to reach out, gather my self, gather my thoughts. But older instincts... hindbrain impulses... have been burnt afresh across the outer levels of my mind. Reptilian impulses. I am not all here no I try to scream. I can only hiss.