Wednesday, April 18, 2018


Childhood, school and work; the three phases of getting to two legs all afflicted with horrors that invade my sleep. I wake brooding.

The boil

It's still going. Each night it is opened and ichor comes out. It hurts to move sometimes 'cos it's so tender. I didn't ride for five days to avoid chafe.

My cracked skin is appealing to someone who picks their skin. I have to rub moisturiser into my feet so they don't get crusty and picked and look like a baked dry river bed. They hurt to walk on. It hurts to move my legs into a position I can do it. I look like the world's worst contortionist.

The battle continues. Some days I feel it and my Valium use has dropped back---I've only had one in a week as a preventative for a public outing with noise and crowds.

The Ouroboros begins as it ends; I wake brooding but it doesn't define my day or cause snotty deep rage storms where you're wild-eyed and panting, tears and snot streaming from your eyes and nose. They used to, and still can, but for now I just brood instead of wail. That's better for everyone but especially for me.


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