I've entered my nombril

the belly button of psychosis

spinning in paranoia.

I eat bananas all day long while

I watch the clock

and listen to the door.

Self doubt follows me like a stray cat

that I'm afraid to kick away.

Age and time. Shifting toward cancer, dementia, seemingly unstopable.

I take selenium from the sea. There are buckets of seaweed in my bathroom.

I am no longer a comfort to others or myself, 

I grab my knife and a whip in my dreams smashing my stomache and back till the bones bleed and a hole erupts.

I take a knife and I cut off bits of seaweed that I eat in my silent kitchen.

I am taking selenium in doses that the doctor says isn't safe. I am taking selenium in doses that the doctor says isn't safe.

I drink beer to keep the seaweed down.

The
highs of applause amplify the lows of my loneliness, once the hands
have all stopped clapping, I can hear my stomach moaning.

Doubts about vision and intelligence - stop the spontaneous breathing. 

Echoes
of her laughter keep me awake. I am no longer a comfort to others and I
climb a dark wall using a candle that I hold in my teeth. It is a dark
moutain, humid and green. I climb into my bathtub and cover myself in
the sinuous weed from the sea.

I am no longer a comfort to others.

I am taking selenium in doses that the doctor says in't safe.

I've entered my nombril

the belly button of psychosis

spinning in paranoia.

I eat bananas all day long while

I watch the clock

and listen to the door.

Self doubt follows me like a stray cat

that I'm afraid to kick away.

Age and time. Shifting toward cancer, dementia, seemingly unstopable.

I take selenium from the sea. There are buckets of seaweed in my bathroom.

I am no longer a comfort to others or myself, 

I grab my knife and a whip in my dreams smashing my stomache and back till the bones bleed and a hole erupts.

I take a knife and I cut off bits of seaweed that I eat in my silent kitchen.

I am taking selenium in doses that the doctor says isn't safe. I am taking selenium in doses that the doctor says isn't safe.

I drink beer to keep the seaweed down.

The
highs of applause amplify the lows of my loneliness, once the hands
have all stopped clapping, I can hear my stomach moaning.

Doubts about vision and intelligence - stop the spontaneous breathing. 

Echoes
of her laughter keep me awake. I am no longer a comfort to others and I
climb a dark wall using a candle that I hold in my teeth. It is a dark
moutain, humid and green. I climb into my bathtub and cover myself in
the sinuous weed from the sea.

I am no longer a comfort to others.

I am taking selenium in doses that the doctor says in't safe.