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Posted: September 13, 2011 in otiose

Irrevocably sick; that’s what I’ve been reduced back down to, a thick simmering illness
that’s aged with me
and faultless.

Great.

I’ve had trouble sleeping longer than I’ve been any other combination DSM crossreferenced statistic.

I dream.
My dreams have their own history.

I don’t want to dream.

Talk
Scream
Walk
Kick
Convulse.

There haven’t been many people willing to hold me
through the worst of it.
I lie awake.
I meditate.
I stare at the fucking ceiling.
I sleep quietly with strangers.

I don’t want to dream.

I just crave a little distance
a little darkness
a little silence

a little rest.

I’m not an addict.
I’m not a whore.

I don’t want to sit down with any more text book judgments.

I don’t want to be sick.

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