solisis

Dead diary,

This is the sign of a sick individual

I woke up earlier I should say I opened my eyes since I was neither asleep nor awake. Nor was I exactly conscious when I did finally rise to the not so occasion that rudely interrupted my umpteen consecutive hours of inert horizontal basting.
The pills are lined up as they naturally are. In order of their bottle size and dosage first then recent ingestion and so on and so forth. Today, or should I say this time considering that I have no idea what day it actually is or if it is day or night or if the world ceased revolution entirely, I have a colorful assortment set aside for continued research on the Kais Psychosomatic Decadence project (KPD). 500 mg of Iprophynol taken orally. Claimes respiratory equalization, safe to combine and a natural tranquilizer. As though I needed such a thing. 1mg adrenaline, subcutaneous injection. Hell, give me 2. I could use a good heart clench. I suppose Im more curious to see what will hit first and the chemical battle that will inevitably ensue when the two drugs collide. Not to mention the third: Rhibunosol, the engineered masterpiece for proper blood circulation. I have no idea the dosage since my last bout with the fiend resulted in a flurry of panic where I destroyed the labels for the bottle, bloody noses and what I like to call temporary hemophelia since I about died when I cut my arm on a chair on the way to the marble floor where I met my half day coma and a pool of blood the size of Texas.

Here goes nothing.

Several hours later I make the effort to return to the notebook where I attempt to describe this chaotic surge of intestinal Gihad and mental disorientation. It has become all the more apparent, my severe dilusional psychosis. As the streaming march of what appears to be what my mind defines as cantonese dragonflies inches before me unanimated I notice a curious movement in the glass on the other side of the window. Or what should be a window, I should say since there seems to be light coming from the opposite end and as I understand it, a breeze of some sort that feels like a series of sharp pricks and twitches issued over the upper portion of my torso and neck only. Interesting that I should see that considering that I have what feels like a vented leather sack secured tightly over my head. I seem to have obtained the exact formula required for uninterrupted temporal lobe epilepsy since I have no recollection of my actions which resulted in my current condition and my glass of water has condensated considerably since I issued the treatment. I can only assume this means I have been out for quite some time. I feel no more accomplished than before and remain entirely releived of personal satisfaction. Thus, I can only assume that this concoction of herbs and chemicals did nothing to deteriorate my mental disorder. This means that I must try again.

I have before me a beaker labled Barlamum 9. Beside it rests several bottles of natural animal extracts and viral treatments. I can only assume this Barlamum 9 is not only a product of these but also the 9th attempt at a stable formula. I havent the slightest clue what I was doing when I created this serum but at this point it doesnt matter. What can I say? Bottoms up.