I can tell by the sag in the skin that supports your eyes. It is trying very hard to roll off your face. Those lips don’t curl back like they used to. And your teeth are unnaturally brown. Did I just see you limping on the way to the bar?

I know you are here to ask me, so I’ll just cut to the chase. No need asking how I know. You cannot possibly understand, at least not now. So listen very carefully this is hard to explain, and it hurts me too.

Mind squeeze. Suffocation. A thin shield that surrounds your brain. A one way filter that lets in reality but scrambles it on the way. It tightens it grip when exposed to heat and becomes brittle like ice in the presence of a cold wind or a dark and rainy day.

At first you didn’t notice, no need to explain. Who hasn’t dealt with a dull and growing pain?

As you drink that drink and the next, as you smoke and listen but fail to hear, I will swirl around you like the ghost of a snake. I will wrap myself around your neck and lick the inside of your ear. And I tickle your spine with the tip of my tail so that you don’t forget that I am your friend.

It will not dissipate until you know what it is and what it continues to do. Chemicals can only punch holes that will close over time. The man with the clock and the books can only hear what you tell him and more than likely he has not fought in this war.

Hindered by the shield, your thoughts begin forcing themselves down, like worms, into unexplored areas, into the really fucking deep. You haven’t felt them like this before and that fear fuels their way.

Who responsible for the shield? You are. Remember, trying to protect yourself from what is and what should not be.

Your sovereignty has been breached and you will begin to fight. Your worms have created silos and are ready to blow. They will fire freely as you gasp for air, failing to escape, silencing your mouth, and coating your eyes.

Some will be composed of the lighter pieces of you whimpering for understanding. They will hit the shield and pop like a dandelion flicked by a curious boy. Those pieces of you will float back down gently landing here and there, each time irking you into a realization of who you are not.

Some will be ballistic missiles with razor tips blistering free from your mind at the speed of light, aggressively pointed at anything. They will stretch the shield only to be returned back with increased velocity and payload. These ones hit hard and go deep, delivering a splintering pain. A shockwave is formed and gracefully rolls waves of defeat across the entire surface of your brain.

You’ll likely be doing your best to sleep when the last attack is launched or lost in one of those creepy daydreams. And when it is done, when you have gathered all that you have left and surrendered completely to the worms, the bomb will explode and rip through what little space that remained in between. You are no longer anywhere. You are the cloud that expands in all directions, casting a shadow of permanent winter under the shield and across the surface of a physical mass that used to be owned and operated by you.

Oh me. Nothing but dog tags and purple hearts. There is a way out but I can’t give you that. One thing is certain, you can’t stop looking, you’ve got to watch like a hawk for who, what, where and when. Personally I suck it in and squeeze it out letting it roll from my fingers just to watch it become something else with each and every strike of a key.

I can save. I can delete it. I can send it to someone else. Or I can let it sit on the screen and stare me down in a standoff that can last for days...