Skin numb, uncomfortably so. I came out not drooling, but diminished in the eyes of the inept. Back to the Habit. Stitched up, full & plump, sharp enough to sever … My thoughts back into the frying pan. Back onto The Machine. (& the emptiness that entails) … & nice to see colour again though. A red curtain. A red toaster. A red couch, a yellow cat. ... Stay clean, sober, sleep, draw, write, eat. … A week in, rattling, craving, unable to control my intrusive thoughts, angry, lazy & depressed. Reason? Olanzapine. … Memories recur - a blood tides – mums tears, are killing me. Demons fiend, boozing in my brain. Anti-bodies, bacteria, dust. … The smell of bleach, distinctly perceptible under those of Sage and Lavender.
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