Friday, May 22, 2009

Nothing but my head

I don’t understand this new thing that’s happening with my sleep, I wake up from a dream that feels comfortable into something that feels like openness, then I close my eyes again or maybe I haven’t opened my eyes yet but I lie back to think about whether it’s time to get up and then right then I sink into this cavern cracked broken catatonic darkness like nothing could possibly open my head I could get up but I wouldn’t be awake will I ever be awake? It’s almost like an incest flashback like waking up and I’m nothing but a hole except this hole that’s me. But there’s no flashback.

Today I can picture something kind of like a tunnel or the inside of a tree made of corroded metal with some kind of light on the outside, almost like the image of my grandmother’s built-in laundry basket that started those first flashbacks, like the laundry basket was floating but today it’s like I’m inside it, inside something else so I’m saying just come out, I can deal with it -- whatever it is, I can deal with it, but I can’t deal with this: my head shut off and too much on at the same time like those times when drugs went the wrong way and pulled me into everything I didn’t want, like I’m nothing but my head and I’m headless. When I get out of bed, it feels like yet another sinus catastrophe, but why?

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