Midnight Obsessions

I'm lying in the darkness, cradled by a low pitched hum that sustains and worries me. I keep trying to remember to forget you but the hum keeps bringing you back, tormenting me with whispers of flesh and blood. Laughter from the next room mocks me, a recorded track that ebbs and flows but never stops, like my mind, circling in the dark. You told me not to let me hurt you and I said I wouldn't, but I never promised the same thing to myself, and it's pathetic and I hate it and that only makes it worse. The hum burrows its way into my brain, and I think if I could crush it I would. Or maybe it's myself I would crush, smash into a pulp in order to be reborn, to be remade into all I am and was and would be. And maybe that's what life is, to die and be reborn in every minute of every day, until you're too tired to remake yourself and you begin to fade away, like a stain on the wall. And what color is my stain? All the colors of the rainbow, of course: one for every sin and every good deed, the tapestry of life in which I'm but a single string to be woven in and pulled out at whim. "I'm not," I say, but I don't know who I'm talking to, and I close my eyes while the hum lulls me to sleep.

And then, while I was lying there, something else blew into my mind that I'm going to try to reproduce in Paint...we'll see how that goes.