7/20/2005 - Infestations
Atom size pests linger on my shoulders nibbling away the layers of my skin, eating away like some dermatic disease. They sit there all day long as if they own the very flesh on which they feed. No matter what I do there isn't a cure for the itching and burning they infest upon me, I stand in the shower until the hot runs cold and still they will not die. I scrub away maniacally causing my outer shell to redden and crack, and I peel like a sunburnt northerner on his first vacation in the tropics. My affliction is lifelong, I do not remember a time without this existence in my life, nor can I forget the day they swarmed like a plague and made their home within my being. They loudly bicker like children on a playground, shouting curses and throwing blames until the entire horde is frenzied mad by their own insanity; there is no consideration for the body they inhabit, no account for the havoc they wreak. From time to time I hear whispers like the soft grating of nails on a board, incoherent suggestions seeping forth from black molasses pits in the center of my mind, crawling along my nerves until I shiver in below zero atmospheres of ice cold longing. My dreams have slowly and ungracefully morphed into nightmares of hellish insomnia, plagues unseen since Egypt forcing their will and way into every crevice, ceaseless oozing from every pore, uncautioned, uncaring, unfeeling, undoing.
No sleep to dream, I'm wide awake. 
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