Ouch

I was locked inside my roomheadself for a long, long time yesterday. I stayed there until the night was past and early morning mutterings moved me to stare at an unblinking screen for a few hours from the solitary position I'd taken up on my worn red throne. Worn red throne. What I mean by that is a mystery, a word-doppleganger, a little secret limned in neon lights that's really tootootootoo easy to understand. I'm trying here. Catch that? I'm attempting to water down the cryptic contents of my brain in the hopes that someone will delineate what, exactly, makes me tickbreathe.screamcry.laughlust - oh, this speaking normally isn't working, is it? I'm rolling around in these run-on sentences and I'm laughing at the disgusting grammar murders I'm committing here...the serial slayings of the things that hold order for me in my world of musty-smelling books, yellowing pages, and faded photograph faces that peer out (with little black beetle eyes) from the creases created by the pressure in my pockets.

I remember finding an old picture in the pages (dirty insides, tangled with try-to-be professional entries) of a book that promised to explain the brain and all of its sicknesses. I was floating in waves of pink and green fabric, worn from countworthmind-less others who'd haunted the corner before me. I remember that being there was a precursor to the things that I'm feeling now, even though I had no idea what was to come, what had been, what would be. Be, be, be. I don't want to be anything for anybody at anytime anywhere. Any. Catch that? I dreamed last night. I don't like to dream much now...I loathe the free-wheeling, rampant, random (in-kingdom) paintings contructed there in my head at night (when the bedbugs bite). I saw a jihn out of proportion in tiny spikes of grass, I saw a poisoned girl all curly and blonde, I saw no more maybe's.

My eyes.

"Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters."

I'm a bump on the head, a bite on the neck...obviously she's got it all wrong-untogether-sadsadsadsad-I don't know what to say right now about anything. Seizures in my fingers keep making me type, seizures in my skin keep making me feel...I WANT YOU TO KNOW WHAT I'M FEELING.

But I can't. Can't speak. Don't have the words (they've betrayed me, betrayed me), don't have the energy. I want to tell you, speak, converse, debate, crycrylonelyinsidebutnotbleedingnowforyoubecauseitwasrequested. Oh, I'm so disgusting sometimes. So pathetic. My eyes. Oh, my eyes.