So the night passed like a razor blade held in a hollowed mouth. Thus Refreshed I dressed with scant regard for Self Esteem or even irony and peeled myself out of my little home with less grace than the roughly ripped flesh of an orange from its own pithy skin. On The Train, again, the dust and the screaming. I pause occasionally to check my own pulse. Lean my head against a suspiciously greasy window. The slight misting reinforces my status – Confirmed: Breathing. Either it’s an overcast day or I have become so immune to reality that I can’t register the sunlight. Who knows. I shrug cryptically and leave it open to the conjecture of my Fellow Passengers. One of these days someone in this carriage is Going To Say Something.
My jaw hurts from teeth grinding. My head hurts from the abuse I inflict upon myself. If stress caused bruises I’d look like I’d gone 10 rounds and Lost. Trust me not to take the hit and play dead, I’ll just keep hauling my battered, bleeding self off the canvas for more. If you really loved me you’d K-O me, tuck me into bed and revive me When Its Over. As it stands I sew my eyes shut at bed time and staple the covers to my feet.