Paralysis. Screams Behind The Shell.

My body lapses into inertia. Absolute inertia has a feeling. It is my least favorite feeling. Your innards turn to bugs and all hide in pouches of skin as shivery, electric goose bumps. The gravity is absurd. My flesh becomes a lifeless shell, occasionally one of my hands is in sight, completely still and dead. Bones motionless yet the soul inside screaming and pouncing like a caged carnivore. expression dumbfounded and lazy, yet behind the flesh are fists pounding against bloody walls. Eyes open, wide open, the nightmares unfurl before me. I am helpless. I am forced to face them. The show begins immediately.

Men and women of different variety emerge through the doors and through the windows. Arising into my vision from the floor. Their mortal terror is impossible to describe. They appear as persona thick silhouette. Faces seen through the darkness, crazed, straight from a fever dream. The bed shakes and giggles and belches. It sucks me into it's void and I float in bloodlit caverns with stalagmites steaming quickly with hot breaths. My body has been eaten by ravaged dogs before. My flesh has been groped and ripped apart. All in these caverns that merge with my room, now melted and screaming for help, guts pouring from the walls.

Sometimes I see similar things while wide awake and with a body that moves. Sometimes it is in public.

i won't go into more detail. I'm writing a book that'll tell all about it, after all. I write this just because it happens and the gravity of it weighs down harder than any of you can really imagine yet. I feel like a shell sometimes. I feel like a screaming soul in a lifeless vessel. I feel paralyzed in motion, for I feel alone in motion, for the soul is not freed and articulated. My paralysis is a thick amplification and meditation of this. Each session is another stroke of the paddles, as I take my leaking canoe further from the shore, into waters. With absolute freedom, I shatter my shell and melt out. Embrace who I am, for it screams to flow.

There is still so much distance.  Behind the shell is fluid. It wants to mingle in life. The walls of the domicile are suffocating sometimes. There is hope brewing. Very potent and euphoric hope. yet sometimes I worry that i may become too dependent of its source. To be honest, my situation there is driving me crazy in some ways. I want to be as close to people as I can. Words don't do it.

I want to be as transient as the wind.