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 |   GI100 Book #2...random attempts at poetry. |
7-8-17 The shrink says I'm having "stress dreams" and I wonder if I should ever eat again because there's never a need for either even if they're vaguely unrelated. The only thing that saves me is coffee, even though it sometimes comes out of my fingertips but it's the one vice I can mostly keep down in a manageable way since the booze no longer agrees. And that was the clear-cut go-to when I needed to mute my brain for days/weeks/months at a time. Nowadays I'm looking through cracked windows and sunlight antidotes sicken me because it brings out the worst in the well-intentioned so I'm internally aggravated in a smile-colored package that's fading with age and a failure to understand anything. What good is trying when the resuscitation doesn't fit the faint? There is me...the confused answer to the questions no one knows to pose. And you can't let me in if I can't find the means to come inside. |
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