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Fire

10/27/2015

 
     I set someone on fire last night.  Doused them in gasoline whose tank felt heavy in my hands and threw a match into the air.  Flames erupted, my heart pounded and I woke from the nightmare sweating.  
     Caught my breath and hydrated but woke again when the police caught up with me questioning why i thought this was a reasonable way to deal with someone I was unable to explain in my dream.  
     I laid looking at the lines in the ceiling wanting something as mundane as complacency to lull me into a restful sleep.  
     Is it insomnia if it's bad dreams that inject fear into my sleep? 
     I feel like I am fighting myself.  When I watch a movie or tv show with excessive violence, my brain shuts off.  I cant retain the story.  In my fiction, I'm amazed that I can write scenes of violence and rage.  In my actual factual days, I lose my words and see red when anger sets in (or more appropriately, explodes out).  So why then, would my thoughts sing songs of fireballs and stabbings when I lay in the dark and quietude for rest? 
     I'm having a hard time again this week.  Inside-not out.  I feel like I'm holding myself together pretty well externally and have had only a few cuss words fall from my lips during huff n'puffs; although I caught myself this morning muttering aloud, "who the fuck cares?" when discussing alternatives to current SOP.
     So would my brain want to extend violence and hurt?  Why am I not dreaming of rainbows and unicorns?  I've taken hard steps to reason what occurred and stuff it down deep inside.  (not just latest evening of turmoil-but all the negative things).   
     It is not reasonable that my brain is setting folks on fire.  It is less reasonable that it is propagating fear.  
     Without sleep, my brain hurts.  Its a headache or feels like I got bumped up and I have to close my eyes to make the swelling and pain drip in salty discharge.
     Twice today I was standing for longer than I should and thought I would collapse.  I think my brain is sleepy.  I think I need to rest.    
     And yet there is the reasonable expectation that I will sink into depression if I allow my brain to convince me to lie down making up for the restlessness of murders and torture.  
     I really don't know what to do and i guess I'm running on auto pilot right now.  Which further concerns me because if my hands act out on the thoughts in my dreams when I'm actually in my waking moments, I'll have become the very thing I fear.

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    Picture
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    When Sevy realizes the pharmaceuticals keeping their bodies young are weened from those deemed to have exhausted their usefulness, he believes he must delve into the purpose of this synthesized society believing it is not much different than the life he lived on earth. 
    Picture

    Esther Elizabeth Buck

    i'm halfway through my life with the stifled stories stirring.  i should have done it earlier, but i am on the
     write path finally.

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