There is a brick in the middle of my head
It imposes a constant dread
The brick changes color at unpredictable times
Sometimes red, sometimes green, and sometimes its white hot and the light comes out of my eyes and mouth and ass
The brick appeared I don't know when its so much a part of me
I feel it must always have been
This brick, it is present
Sometimes it is subtle and hard to detect, at others it overwhelms,
Stopping all thought and action, taking away the will to live
Thoughts cannot cross my mind the brick intercepts them
They disappear into a black hole
This hole is in the brick, which is in my head
I think the brick is made of lead
It is so heavy sometimes I fall to my knees
Sometimes the brick feels bigger than my head though I know it is inside
My head wants to explode at these times
I hate the brick
I have no selfhood, I do not exist, I am just a meat puppet
Thoughts of suicide come again and again.
How long before my body is found?
Will I stink up the place? Should I go out like Mike? Where will I get the morphine?
Recently the brick has taken to keeping me home from work. Its weird, I'll be ok until its time for work then the pounding begins and it gets progressively worse until I call in, then sudden relief and a feeling of guilt.
I am so fucking broken now, all my paranoid fantasies came true.
Death is the only thing I can think of forcing me to face my cowardice, thus making everything more painful.
Well there is the downward spiral again. What color is the...