A worm is slowly boring a new space between the skin of my temples and my skull. It slithers around my head.
I know you are talking about me. I tried to understand you. I tried to show myself. To tell myself. You are not going to bring me down. In fact, I know that I must not sound. I must not hear any sound, but that of my own voice. I must become passionate about things that I HAVE TO do.
Resistor lab. Resisting. Being everything against what I am apart of. Eat. Eat it all. Eat all of the oatmeal. I have time. I have time to become overweight. I have time to hear the sizzling crackle of femoral fractures.
You know that this feeling would come. Yet your highs are too high and your lows are too low. Time for yourself is DONE. Time for myself now must be DONE.
Created: Mar 24, 2010Document Media