the hollows of madness

The disintegration of oneself. Falling back into fever dreams of undigested thoughts. Rapid eye movement but still awake, always awake. The separation of the mind and the state of a body that is not content. A body that is having trouble filtering anything at all. Pipes yawn and pitch, trying to form structure to relieve the pressures of a broken frame.

"What have I become my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end."

-nin

The body double just lies above. Mocking the pain, the discomfort, the pressure. Laughing as it is allowed to close its eyes while the body original, how ever slightly below, cannot. "Who the fuck do you think you are?", it whispers to the original. "We have given you so many chances, and you still manage to fuck it up." The original grimaces as it listens. Not at the truth but at the pressure building in the midsection. The pressure is starting to churn in on itself.
"Reckless abandon", is the only thing that passes through the original's lips as the double continues to whisper its crude truths. "You lazy, weak fucker. Who do you think you are talking to? We have had it with you and your clever excuses. You need to get your fucking priorities straight pal."
The original's eyes are blinking fervently now. "The pipes are not connecting!", it screams out in the mind, "The pressure is too much and I can't get them connected to release it!" A myriad of colours, each pipe contains a piece of the key. A key that will hopefully end the torment and re-establish firm footing into the waking world.
"That stupid fucking fetal position won't work either", the double begins to whisper again, "It doesn't matter how much you squirm and change position, the pressure will remain. Buy the ticket, take the ride. After all these years, you still don't get it do you? What a fucking fool."
Like a baby, the original continues to stir and choke out guttural whines that are only audible to itself and the double. It has never felt such hesitation to rise from a broken sleep and try to find a way to alleviate the pressure. Squirming but not moving, it wrestles with the pressure, the pipes, the double, and finally rises. Sitting first, the head wobbles as if being held on by a unstable twig. The pressure in the head is like a fist trying to punch through the front of the skull. The lower back winces at its new found movement. The dull drum of its ache is almost a comfort now.
Swinging the body around so the feet can be put on the ground, the original gives one last half hearted breath (or is it a sigh?) before standing. The entire body shudders under the weight. The legs can't find themselves. "Atrophied already?", it thinks. Stumbling like a first born calf, it claws its fingers along the wall in an attempt to find a light switch and break the darkness. The fingers finally find the recognition they were looking for and the switch is triggered. A light goes on in the adjacent room.
Snickering from behind, the double utters a last comment before the original disappears into the light laden doorway.
"You know, this is only the beginning."
Wincing, the original sputters back, "I know", as it closes the door.

db