Angor Wat

My head is pounding & my heart is racing. Nausea for the last ten minutes. Rotation. The room is spinning, spinning, spinning while I am standing still& I am feeling like death warmed over. A corpse microwaved to a semi-animate state. I cannot make myself calm. Down. There is a depression pulsing, quickly, ironically coming over me. Forcing its’ anti way into my system & I want to take revenge, take advantage of others of myself. Food in the room is making me sick. I can feel my body tensing, tightening. Bullet ants. I am hyper & bored. Sick & sane. The pounding in my right temple will not stop. But I cannot remember when this began. Has it always been there? Like the ringing in my ears? Like the well repressed southern drawl? Is this a physical retribution? Have my body and brain finally come to such odds that I am betrayed? Too much sleep? Not enough sleep? Too much clean food? Not enough clean food? Too much exercise? Not enough exercise? My body is disconnected. My body is heavy and puffy. Nothing fits. Nothing is right. Nothing is comfortable. I am sick from something. & I am sick from everything. & all at once the cliché is overwhelming. . . I am sick from nothing.