Air of breath! Live!

I haven't been sleeping, I haven't been dreaming. I'm not awake. Just Saturday morning cartoons for adults projected on the back of my eyelids, the annual flooding of the Nile, diurnal tactile scenarios. Illusory depictions of fiction -- reality. Ar Ee Em, intonations, eyes pinned open, the scenarios so quick, flashes lit withing camera-ized pupils. I know all the characters as I invent them at birth. I know all the places as I rent them from earth. The real confusion comes in when question states. How can I solidify awake? My reels digitized the soil and the sky together in a momentary forever. I can not sleep, yet I dream. Steeped in oniric onirism, Osiris Osirisism; my leaden prayers fly through ancient silence. Can there be life before death? Can there be texts that are only spoken? Can words rest? Horus and Seth, bless the bricks of this pyramid. Images, water, wine, slaughter. Land of the dead! Give!