Well, well, well. If we all casually and collectively whip out our watches (or unlock our phone screens, I don’t know what I meant by watches either, is it the 21st century or not??) we will see that today is the 11th of January.
That is already 11 days of the New Year. The beautiful, promising 2017! And if we look at this post’s title, what conclusions can we make?
Today I felt ill. In a state between consciousness and silence, there was a stumbling me. As I dizzily made my way to the bathroom, my body was on fire and one glance at the mirror had me staring back, through blood.
As I walked, bones broke. As I touched, felt heat instead of skin. It’s not pleasant. And at that state of mind, one of a boiling egg, I started vomiting words.
Happens a lot.
Though not particularly often in given situation. But I listened. And then wrote, surprisingly steadily, knowing that five minutes ago I had to lean against walls.
At first I thought I was writing about my physical symptoms but later on felt something more. The anxiousness of my life fell directly into the same lines below.
The body was on fire;
Awaiting death or
Burning with desire;
The eyes shot blood
And traced it;
While step by step it
All becomes too wasted;
The only difference was that after a few days, the physical symptoms will pass.