Thursday, March 10, 2011


I am distraught.  I've been sick off and on for a week or more and have had insomnia on top of it.  It fatigues the mind in elastically painful ways. The desperate visions stretch out and away from me in the dark, returning with hideous throbbing intent, galloping at me with cackled hysterics.  I have called out sick from work too much and have no choices left to me in that regard.  I am forced to go in and make the best of it.  I do myself no favors.  My body refuses to heal, refuses to rest, refuses to quiet.  It reminds me of the many years I spent partying for days on end, but without the fun.  It just depletes the mind and destroys what's left of the body.

I feel as if I am connected to a low-level output electrical jack.  My body is trembling inside. It is as if I am having an epileptic seizure in slow motion. My eyes are twitching even when they are closed.  I am aware of everything that is going on around me but it is all vibrating and awkward and charged.  I feel as if everybody can hear that my mind is shaking, but they seem to not notice, their voices sound distorted and broken apart into smaller and smaller pieces.  

I lie down in bed and try to gauge the effects of it.  A nearly constant current disrupts every moment.  It feels like ephedrine, but not the upswing onset, but rather the afterwards, when you just want it all to stop.

That's where I am trapped, coming down from an unpleasant electric dementia.  

My throat is too dry to scream.

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but with a whimper.

-T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men