(no subject)

[spinningbelljar]

i hear and i see a barrage of sounds and images, spilling like wine out of a glass. they spin (round and round) in these brains of mush; and they trickle out of my ears (drip. drip.) into a fat puddle on the floor.

but,

condensation.

and it's all inside again.

an endless merry-go-round
          not homeward bound.

i'm dizzy from the painkillers
            and all that puke in the gutter.