The feeling is gnawing. It claws at my nerves – a vice grip that threatens to envelop my whole head – squash it until it pops like at zit – threatens to engulf my whole existence and rip it apart, piece by piece until the only bits that are left in the giant scarlet cloud that was my organisme, is my brain and my teeth.

They used to be the mountains – white mountains proudly presenting themselves and presenting me. Minty mountains where a breeze would carry the essens of the milky clouds, the fresh sound of blooming flowers, the smell of light and evergreen forests, the vibrant movements of the rivers and the furry feeling of the animals as they play around in the bosom of natur.

They used to carve and mash the neutrons, electrons and protons of my nutritious meals. Destroy it so that my body could build it up again as a new part of itself.

Now they are not as magnificent or proud.

Sulphur – the taste – the smell – the corruption. It’s seeping from them, the pale spots and dots. The nicotine yellow spikes of shit!

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