Babyliss In Acid

You are a hole in my head; when I look inside, I see a dentist's drill grinding sweetly against my hippocampus and it must have hit a tear duct by accident because when I wake, it has been raining. I douse myself in Argan oil and set myself on fire with my hair straightener (ordinal, interval). Never again will I sleep; That night I dream of at last! A letter from you though when I wake, I do not check the post. I switch on the oven, and logic swallows the half-consciousness of your handwriting. Now I rise from my reverie; it is babyhood and it is morning and I sweat under the covers, learning everything in five minutes, Orlando, Leon, Halleluiah, and people looking like other people, a man that used to be handsome, In the veins of a red-eyed pensioner he drags me from my bed in upside-down buses and the screaming blue walls of the DVLA office; I fall cyclical into double brackets as I am reaching out for a glass of water and I am forever Brushing my hair in the face of death; I sit down in the shower and wonder if it will get infected