Scratching off my skin and digging my eyes out.
The cracks branch off at the corners, swollen and puffy.
A busted lip, some pills, and a drink to help me relax.
Didn't work.
Little levies break now and then to spill small kernels of my locked up consciousness, then retract back in on itself.
Functional.
Motions, actions, procedures.
Pushing through the grime towards the bathtub.
Through the haze typing delicately to oneself.
Giggle.
Glorify yourself.
Lose your voice in explanation of everything except the important parts, the parts they already secretly know.
The stomach churns, sudden twinges pierce all the muscles.
Conversations swim about other things.
The oncoming memories, the irritations of daily life.
Just being here.
I originally wrote this in 2010, I've updated it slightly after finding it again.
