There are
whispers
snatches of conversation.
Rustlings.

Clocks move backwards. Inanimate objects switch places. I can move things with my brain.
Its as though all the cliches are coming true.


Everything is crooked and broken and dirty, so very unclean, and there is only so much I can do about it. I keep my hands still and my feet still and my blood continues to pump and my bones don't disintegrate. I am always surprised when I remember to breathe.

Everything has a reason, has a message and everything is trying to get through, but my head is too foggy and too clouded to understand, I am drowning, I am drowning.

I am coming undone.

I can feel the muscles and the tendon separating; I can feel the skin peeling back and the joints coming loose; I can feel my eyeballs leaking fluid and my cheeks wearing away; I can feel my hair falling out and my cilia burning off and my intestines dissolving.

I can feel nothing. If i am nothing, they wont want me anymore.