Spin spin spinning.
Its plastic panes a constant bane, slip-slapping upon the insides walls that compose the cavern that is my skull.
No brain.
Just spin spin spinning.
A wooden rod shoved down my throat, sprouting leaves and leaves of societal norms and from it came the wheel.
Its logical home my head, of course.
Cheery, colorful crushing.
And I can't get it out.
It's staying.
No, the wind's on.
It keeps me awake.
No rest to be had.
I think it hates me.
My spin spin spinning head.
It's shiny, strict hands, all over the walls.
Stress stress stressing.
Never going to sleep again.
-Suzanne
(For some reason, I had Ed Sheeran's "Don't" stuck in my head while writing this. Words are very different, but the rhythm is similar in some parts.)
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