Rewinding Summer on my head

There is a pause in between every transition when you roll over backwards and watch the world standing on your head just to make the pain a little more concrete. The sun shines from behind the creases of vegetation scarring your eyes till your pupils crawl right inside your brain. Everything in there is blue with the liquid fear that floods your thoughts - the sea is in your head this afternoon and the colour of this world be red. You breathe in the air with involuntary panic and feel bulbous veins swell at the roots of hair that lifelessly caresses the marble. You have never sensed gravity from this close as it pulls your skull into its lap tipping you upside down. Every liquid in your body promises to slither out of your nose and every groan screams of collapsing lungs. Every cartilage at the back of your neck strains to keep your head from twisting and the intensity leaves you with a deep sense of vomit. Maybe now like a Tarantino movie your nerves will rip and every pore will let out an ocean of red ketchup that will pour out inelegantly till you are as dry and empty as your tear glands.

Right now, more than anything you want to fall and let the crawling at the tip of your head stop. You breathe hard, in huge gulps but vertigo only escalates.

Doors bang all around you – creaking, groaning, and thudding against walls. Someone calls out your name – it sounds like your mother - and leaves a note of threat in it. Thinking of the paint in your hair and the smell that is crowding you, you smile. Not now, you scream out but only hear it reverberate in your head. Not now and not ever if you could just find one reason to let your head fall. And from within your horror you wonder how you would bob on your head and with a sound like ‘furmp’ you would fall back cracking your support system and crippling under pain smelling your life in the sweat and sweet decay.

On the outside though, you only seem a bit stoned, maybe a bit happy even