Should think with my brain.

Should think with my brain.

Never did.

Terrible, relentless uneasiness all over. Head hurts like hell, eyes twitching madly, legs tremble. A thousand demons screaming under the eyes. The blood feels like dancing lava, all fume and fire. An orange iron ore falls a heavy drip and wiggles inside my testicles.

Outside the window, brick walls are crumbling down as if they were made of sand. A man enjoying a beer. His head looks like a muffin. It's fucked up.

The meatballs are burning inside the oven. Smoke everywhere.

Every night and every morn,
some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night,
some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight;
some are born to endless night......

- William Blake

Early morning. An eerie restlessness everywhere....scattered around my room. Couldn't sleep...there were intermittent, sharp, piercing nightmares. I could see around me, yet asleep.

Legs jittery, wants to go everywhere.

What is this sensation? Inside there is a screeching razor's edge. Flesh blood trembling.

It is not madness that i am afraid of, but becoming one. Being mad is being dead. Fear of death insubstantial.

In these terrible hours I hold my pencil and draw. As the dark lead scratches across the paper, I see a faint flickering of light again. I change. I breathe.

"....the mind's canker in its savage mood,

When the impatient thirst of light and air

Parches the heart; and the abhorred grate,

Marring the sunbeams with its hideous

shade,

Works through the throbbing eyeball to

to the brain

With a hot sense of heaviness and pain."

- Byron.