Sitting in Spiderwebs

I've been taking so many pills lately. Two for my kidneys. Two for the pain. Two to sleep. Two to focus.

-Why, yes, I think I'll take the two amphetamine salts with a side of..... hmmm, errr.... coffee and a cigarette. Thanks.

-Here's the bill. Whenever you're ready: 'One flask full of Kraken'

::The barter system is always effective.

Amphetamine salts working

on my neurotransmitters

I'm getting my haircut soon.

Maybe this haircut will cut away all the bad thoughts that have been seeping from my head. Thoughts slightly curled and lightened from exposure. Pigment beginning to fade out but not quite! They're still around. Still permeating the tint that remains. Oh, these thoughts! They make my hair curl.

But typically hair falls out one by one. -Unless otherwise provoked- A hairbrush catching a knot, the elbow of your glasses closing at just the right time-left gripping a single strand, a lustful tug, a playful pull- A slow process of forgetting. Not me though. Cut it all off! Make me forget! I'll do anything if you just make me forget.

Home again, home again, back for a month.

And still as lonely as ever. Here's hoping the new year brings some company.

Holy paradox, Batman

I was thinking about how uncomfortable it would be to be placed in another physical body. Trying to maneuver with arms too long and a jaw too wide. Sensations completely altered. Learning how to move again. To interact.

I am so wary of other people. Their intentions and their behaviors. I start to believe that people see me this way as well, but I don't want them to. Holy paradox, Batman. It's like Sartre's concept of bad faith.

Sun spots like bacteria under a microscope.

Droning electricity and jabbing trumpets. Waves of conversations. An echo from another mouth. Saliva, tongues, and teeth. Howls.

Sun smoothing my goosebumps until they are flesh. With my flesh.

Beardy men and torn clothes. Passing conversation.

Squinting.

Ich muss Katze giessen

Finally have the ability to sleep. Can't sleep. Sartre on the brain. Not really. Pushing myself to delirium.

Waiting, waiting.

Within days of snatching up some work ethic, it sneaks away. None lingers. It is not my friend.

Lately I've been pushing people away. Few exceptions. Very few. One.

Ich Angst bin.

Body angled on a couch too small. Obtuse. Greater than ninety degrees.

Heavy boots.

Cacophony. Coffee maker.

Gnawing bits of nail and skin. I wonder how much skin I've swallowed.