This is about me.

Watch the “I” count

EXPLODE.

So many things buzzing round my head

Like little bumblebees,

So fast like the whir of a computer’s cooling fan

As it thinks about all the processes running through its system.

That translucent white technology

Is the manifestation of those bumblebees—

Or should we call them wasps?—

I’m sure they’re in you, too.

The repeated biting and stinging

Is their presence on the inside of your skull.

And on those days

When my mind is taken over by the Haze,

It is on those days I am thrown

Into a cage.

And it is a cage impossible to escape.

Surrounded by dark water and terrible spikes

On which my body would be impaled…

For my blood to flow into that cold, that biting cold,

And leave my body dry.

It’s even worse because the cage…

The cage is constructed out of my own flesh.

There is never a way out.

It is in this place I find I cannot breathe

For fear of choking on my own spit and phlegm,

That rock in my throat that prohibits me from speaking.

The acrid taste of vomit on my lips,

Spilling on the floor of my darling little prison.

My bodily inertia is

The bedamned devil itself.

That insane craving…

I want to live forever in that blink-of-an-eye time void

Through which dreams are woven

(Only to be forgotten at the break of dawn).

But this shall likely be my downfall.

An unparalleled greed for something I cannot have.

If it all falls down,

I’ll be happy

If only to rebuild it all over again.