Like I Can't Find Skin

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SUNDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2012

Vintage yellow.

It feels like a waking nightmare. Gasping, gagging, vomit. Broken limbs, a green tinted bathroom, with an enclosed bathtub. And a choking loneliness. Clothes array the floor, I keep taking them off, it's like I can't find skin. You're in the other room and you despise me, I'm not there for you. Your omnipressure on my leg, snaps, I can't feel it anymore. I can't feel. A sickness is infecting this room a blue and yellow wash spreads my vision I must have fallen onto my clothes. They aren't mine, nothing's familiar. You refuse to show yourself to me, nos vemos I say, nos vemos nos vemos nos vemos. I woke up to the trap. I'm encased by my shudders, a warm sacred beat, chills, and sore eyes. I'm still here almost twenty hours later, that view outside the window. It's a forest, I know this, because I asked for it. I asked for all of this, for I have one year to live.

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