I feel that extremely tense feeling in the back of my throat and in the back of my skull where the tension of that last few days is starting to solidify around my spinal chord and feels like its going to not only splinter into a billion pieces, but those pieces also are more and more prone to pushing against each other spiraling out behind me in clouds of smoking rubble and end in me being propelled forward in and out of reality so fast and so unpredictable.
I don’t want to self-destruct and I don’t like that I cant think and hypothesize a better solution, and the internal PSI of my dented cranium is getting so out of control, that I picture my face as an overworked cartoon train texture, with plates straining against rivets and letting whistles of hot steam and belches of smoke. I hate being on fire, but the only thing I don’t less than that, is being on fire and being chained or paralyzed and also on fire. Being forced to sit with things and analyze all of the possible and increasingly unlikely consequences, like knowing exactly what is going to happen is going to make it feel better anyway.
Eye need to get out of this bucket, but with the sting of jalapenos and spices falling in my eyes and strong, disembodied claws rip at my ankles and peace of mind in dense pincers and handfuls. I’m not going to die. I would just really like to start living, as it seems like a pretty popular past time.