Comatosed

little brother

Roy Sunday siesta

Linny was last

My brothers and I were weak in the knees but eager and tireless to keep moving forward; vitality at it's best. Linny manned the computer and the controls and Roy Sunday was relaxed at his brethren's side, slouched casually, with no pants, just baby blue boxers and a shirt, wearing his spectacles, enjoying the moment. The hands of time symbolized the hour of the ox and I couldn't keep up or follow any longer. I slumbered latently, pausing to regain myself, to restore the oxygen in my blood stream with heavy deep breathes, my consciousness became suspended. Subsequently stirring and becoming alert and attentive, I noticed Roy was dormant a few lengths away. As the sun launched above the tree line, the evening rolled back through my psyche and my wits were regained. A pen found my grasp and skirted the surface of a journal. Roy was logged and Linny was noted to be next on the list as an unsuspecting sandman.