[Can't] shake it off.
SUMMER CURSE, it is. I say, "SUMMER CURSE, it is." What am I supposed to do? Just ignore how I feel? Guess so. Some kind of unreliable instinct. Superstition, no, stupidstition. Help me get it out of my head. CAN'T. Once it is in my head, it only digs deeper. I cannot shake it off. This thought, I cannot erase. Its sinister character, it craves for my heart's trembling. Can't shake it off. I'm cracking, tearing, breaking. Broken. Words escape from my blood soaked lips; I've been gnawing out of apprehension. Shouldn't have said. It's done. It's got me. Too late. Help me get it out of my head. I CAN'T. CURSE, IT'S A CURSE! I say. He giggles. That is the most ludicrous thing he has ever heard. BUT..BUT! It's forever contained in my heart. No, it has masticated, devoured.. every bit of it. Juices drained, no leftovers.
NONE.
(easy/better view on my journal)