Excursion of Debt

Sleepwalkers go without a policy in all fifty states. It may feel cruel, but the damned must cover their own losses. If one of them were to wake up in his blood, there is no money to recoup. No judge will hear their case. A roaming body is guilty of many unspeakable crimes. Who will insure the foot path of those rogue spirits outside of the odd charm? Twenty jade tigers could not stay the hand of an unsettled cosmos balancing it's sheets. There is no recompense for the wanderer. His body pulls him to the place of his misdeed over and over again. He is a collaborator with parched earth and a comfort to ensuing pestilence. His dreams compel a death march into the heart of badlands where his conspirators are splayed before wild animals that refuse to eat their pollution. Life corrects with meticulous pressure in restoring harmony to it's furthest reaches. There is no height that can not be leveled or deficient that can not be filled. None have had the pleasure of evading this punitive restructuring. Pathos is made into disease and inability is given a miracle touch so that it may testify. No tongue can wriggle out of this final accounting. Slumber muddles the smooth operation of speech. That is why every unbearable secret must work diligently to perfect the sleepwalker's articulation through sustained torments. Every word that you can make out is the transliteration of untold agony. And where is our drowsy traveler off to but to break his body through pitfall or collision? I know why he can not abide in his bed. There is a reason for restless ambulation that makes him vulnerable before his weakest adversary. The adventures of implacable lopsidedness has turned you into a marionette! Now pay what you owe, and return what you have stolen. Reestablish the soul that you have crushed, or become a hollow vessel of aimless plodding with vacant eyes that do not register physical surroundings. Wake up in the forest stripped of recall, or to the prompting of a marauder's knife; it is all the same to an indifference tabulation that will wipe your sweat from off it's equal sign. Confess to your slaying of majestic unicorns, for breaking a truce the prophet, and for eating from the table of dispossessed strangers. You split crumbs with the powerless only to sit before an elaborate assortment of fine grain and meat at your own house. The price of your unlawful traffic is a body that can not rest. Repose belongs to an innocent biology. The blisters on your feet are an inditement of thoughtless gain that will eventually wear out your knee and ankle joints by reason of unintended steps. By whatever means one is minted by avarice, simply know that the reproach of zombie feet are quick to follow.