i have a head full of sleep. sleepy head. bed head. dead head. i have a bed full of dead sleep and dead skin and dream wrappers, torn open, consumed and tossed aside.
light pools in the crack of my ass. in my armpits. in my mouth. my boxershorts smell of light. light forgotten and lost in locked rooms. crawling the empty rooms, looking for warmth. congealing with dust and memory until it can no longer creep the carpet and becomes absorbed. the floors of these ghost houses are swollen with lost light. i am swollen with lost light. infected with the broken promises of summer. i have a head full of flowers. thousands and thousands of flowers. fields of poppies and pansies and dandelions. orchids and vanilla.
all rotting in the sun. stolen light. i stick out my black tongue and make a wish. and the spores fly. seeding the sheets.
clinging to the clothes in the closet, still wrapped in their dry cleaner bags. stillborn. airborne. i have a head full of light. i am light headed. a headlight. i am going to sleep.
i am going to install this and post this and apologize for the unanswered notes and comments and i will try again tomorow. i have a head full of apologies.
i have a head full of circular track that always ends up back where it started. i am light hearted. about to burst.

"Here is a plea, From my heart to you, Nobody knows me As well as you do.
You know how hard it is for me, To shake the disease That takes hold of my tongue In situations like these"
depeche mode/shake the disease