Up to a brown-out here, unable to operate anything requiring more candlepower than a gnat’d hum up. Dress’d in the sepia’d cone thrown by a single ampoule.
Sock’d out of routine so, one’s a candidate for Beckett’s “big blooming buzzing confusion.” In search of a face to bestill it.
Beastly circumstance. Dement’d particulars unforthcoming.
Reading a little, yes, Beckett. Murphy.