(shaking semaphore)

My brain is a tin hooker holding back the bedroom door waiting for our hero to sift out the perils of his sentence. this fucking breakdown again.

There is a spiral in my head. a loop that hasn't ended since i first remember taking a breath. words stumbling. gasping for the right sound and sequence. itching to scream along my fingertips and into the ether that is this...

Half the time i can't make sense of them. they whir so loud i can't tell which way to get up and at the chance again. they drive me fucking crazy. leave my face blank and hopeless when it comes to recognizing a goddamn thing beyond the basic function of my half-failed skin.

Late at night they shiver so deep i'd scream if i thought it would kill the sound. the notes. the phonemes. i forget this place i'm in. the people i've seen. the name of my sweetest kiss.

Everything.

Lost in the manic charge of words that will never make it to my lips. that'll die by the time i focus my eyes on the terrified spectre of a page.

And every morning they leave me thirsty that just one thing will be the same.