A Scalpel of Bright Colors

I'm getting close to that point again. The point where I'll stop functioning and they'll put me back into the hospital. There's still so much to do so much to do I need to hold on just another week another couple of weeks. Then it'll be okay. By then I'll need the rest.

A chemical imbalance of some sort, is what they tell me. Something to do with my brain getting too much of some chemical, or maybe not enough. I don't pay attention; it doesn't matter. If I take the medication, the whole world becomes bland and colorless and lifeless and dull and I hate it hate it. When I stop taking the meds, the color returns. I see movement. I begin to see with a clarity so sharp it slices through everything like a Ginzu knife. Ginzu clarity. And it just gets sharper and sharper and then the sharpness gets cold so cold that it hurts to see.

That's when it's best, just when it begins to hurt. Just when it begins to hurt and the whole entire world becomes a scalpel of bright colors and you want be part of it all part of everything every little sharp thing, so sharp it's like a needle through the tongue and there's a copper taste to it, copper taste of blood. It's so beautiful so very very beautiful and pulsing and alive and beautiful.

Then it becomes too much. Too much and it's so bright and cold and sharp you can't sleep anymore, you can't remember to eat or bathe and the touch of water on your skin is like a million mosquito bites, mosquitoes with acid in their saliva. Horrible and beautiful and exquisite and horrible beautifulhorrible.

I have to make notes now, notes to eat and to bathe. But it's so easy to get lost in the sound of the pen on the notepad, the scratchy sound scratchy like the yellow fingernails of dead men on dried leaves, and it's hard to get the 'a' just right there are so many curves in it.

posted by greg @ 12:27 PM