I feel like life has been drained from me. Then tiny holes were poked into me. When I try to slurp that sweet soul-syrupy nectar from the cup of life it siphons out of me. Gush. A bit of the itchy juice tingles the toes, but they don’t bend. Spurt. More like an uncomfortable twitch that you wish would stop.
I feel like I’m melting into a warm tar that simmers all that I was into one and evaporates it into nothing. Kerplunk. No mess. No fuss. I’m fine. Hiccup. Here I am, now. This is me. Soup is good. Alphabet if you’ve got it. Two ice cubes and a napkin, please.
I feel like I’m unravelling and my blackened insides are showing-off their goopy laze. Guck. I try to wrap the strands of skin back ‘round my tangled organs, but it sags, droops and bounces back and knocks me unconscious. I don’t sleep or I sleep until noon.
I can’t remember much, lately. I feel like I’ve held the remote long enough. It’s your turn. Pass it down the line…