House-bound - mood - climbing the walls. Trapped - head-bound - peppered with alcoholic stings. With an overzealous monkey on my back - no average ape, horny & mean. My arm - a foul-smelling mess. Clean clothes today - they feel filthy. They're not. I mopped the floor in a cold sweat twice today - everyday - noxious disinfectant its still filthy. It's not. I swore. Spotless germs and spore. Strange, I would eat off this floor but I wouldn't let my bare feet touch it. Peculiar. Going though my mind many more times than it deserves. Weak thoughts, forced. More pills. Medication prescription described wonder cure. It's not. Climbing the walls again ... On/off – on/off – on/off, ad nauseam.