Graphing

I'm not sure how to describe it, this mood.  Stagnant.  Like being surrounded by the sick and the dying, or the people who won't die but aren't really alive.  Ideas shriveling and turning to dust, hearing things that make you not want to think, or reading too much, or drinking too much.  When you don't miss being touched.  Feeling like you're on the losing end of some vast, imperceptible struggle.  Watching television.  Not sad, but not happy, when the venom dries up and consuming flame dies down to embers.  Weighed down by obligation and guilt, not sure where one ends and the other begins.  Knowing that even vocalizing the shape of it is over-indulgent, luxurious, work of boredom.