Holed Up

Taking a break from my meds.  On Day 3 with little sleep, crazy nightmares and the emotional spigot in my skull is broken.  Take away that layer of numbness and life is harsh.  Making toast is harsh, typing is harsh, breathing is no longer that great.  I suppose this malaise will pass when the dopamine returns to the synaptic clefts like salmon spawning.  But until then, I lay in that space where the addict is buried alive with his or her sins.  The atonement for pleasures of the poppy is almost...not worth it.