Today I start a strange trip, to say the least. This time the movie has a script where my face is the star, and the spot that has appeared is co-star.
It hurt, it stung, it was painful. I wretched and looked over, there they stood.
One of them came up to me later, talked about how the gov uses certain techniques to shut people up, and out. How some people need to be "taken care of."
I don't think it was a dream, the memory is too vivid. I was drunk, I think they were having fun. But how did they know about the pain on my cheek and the burning sensation?
One of them said to the other "don't tell him..." He'll know soon enough, replied the other. They walked away.
Was I targeted? Was it a paranoid dream? I don't have paranoid dreams. Why is the spot on my face growing? Why are the lymph nodes on my neck freaking out? Why are the lymph nodes on my neck appear to be moving something? Linearly they swell.
One of the most important questions is, why me?
Short stories, poems, among other play things. A constant work in progress. Forever changing.
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