January 2, 2011
My eyes can’t adjust to this light. Dissonance. The acoustics are all wrong in this dim place. Heavy, slow transition pulses in the skin beneath my eyes. I’m trying to rub you out. Open. Move. Something itches in my brain and I’m lacking moisture in these eyes. Fingers tracing the cracks and indentations; rawness from rubbing on this face. Muffled reverberations. Something powerful is trying to bubble up my throat. Pounding the small space. Sleep now and action. Tearing down past these walls, my voice will bore through this cement in the morning. Weary muscles. Just a little rest and I’ll be ready. Stuffy. I just need a few hours of calm. I'm crawling around in a plugged sinus cavity. Hazy light breaks through-streaks of ghostly yellow on the floor. Rest, now; rubbing dry. After I clear my head I’ll scratch you out.

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