2014-01-27 - 11:34 a.m.
Freaking out and what's the point - lost my mind without a joint - felt poked and prodded yet all alone - felt cramped and stifled without moment to reflect, ingest my poison like a sickness, waft through air like a spider's nest, caught, sick and unruly, untaught and unkempt, my hair is the most normal thing that I've ever dreamt. I wish to relax with the moments that pass. I wish to find space for the stress to be erased. I hate fear yet it saturates me - fills my days like a disease - I fight for my life yet there's nothing to see. I wander through forests just to feed my need to flee. I feel my stomach bunch up like a dog's skin, fat. I feel my saxophone sound like shit when I play flat. I try to hide but there's no where to go - sometimes I want to dig a hole in the snow and stay there a minute until it's time to go. Come to terms with my concerns and then let them go. I push away the remedy by accident. I try to apologize, I try to repent. I push forward when I'm supposed to bend back. I walk backwards when I'm supposed to spend cents. Nothing makes sense so why even try? There's nothing to cry about and yet I cry. I feel lonely when I'm in a group.
