As i sit upon this chair
thoughts become heavy and unbearable like a harsh scream in a wintery climate where everything is ice and snow and white and dead.

Now I feel how the voices are bubbling up inside, inside of my body, my chest, my toes, my neck and spine, how they tear how they laugh and eat and drink from me and I cannot listen.

For some reason I just can not, can not understand, the voices are part of me like the hair growing upon my head but I guess we are quite separate and soon, no now, now they have started lives of there own and will soon be dead just like you and me.

Worm food