Virus

We were stood there, drinking our goon and talking to one another as and/or was or will be the occasion on any friday saturday sunday night of the week. The way everyone just wantonly was interacting, absolutely appalling. People and places infringe on our memory, forcing themselves into our head like they have a right to be there; they change us and I say that I will take my brain back, no longer leave nothing to chance about the sort of unspeakably shady character I might become all because one day I met so-and-so in such-and-such a place. Just a fifteen second encounter it was but that's all it takes these days and then they're IN. I am a virus too, infecting everyone I meet with a tiny part of myself that they're doomed to carry around forever.

Patterns and codes shift; I am paralyzed by fear. Paralyzed by my own treasonous psyche. Words don't fail; you do. Sentences change as I read them, trapping me in labyrinthine paragraph that I slowly, and with great terror, realize is my own biography. Choose Your Own Adventure: all the pages ripped out. We can cut out fear with a scalpel, delete it with a drug. Everything's getting got will get to me. In a dream I pull worms out of a hole in my foot as we're stood there, drinking our white wine and muttering to ourselves as is was will be the occasion every night day dream. The way everyone was melting and dissolving, disgusting. People and places infect us, sticking to the bottom of my shoe like they have a right to be there.

Maybe I'm just cold and I've had too much coffee. I can feel my guts, dead weight in my belly, I can feel them squirming and writhing. I think they want to get out. All life support systems fail. My brain drips out my ears and slithers off to parts unknown. I say I will take it back. Codes and scenery shift; I am paralyzed by my total lack of internal organs. Memories fade and recapitulate, trapping me in a labyrinthine mind which I slowly, and with great terror, realize is my own.