sabotaged synapses

the onset of the spring to summer has brought with it aches of the brain; pinched throat singing wordless words; disorientation; and a pile of stress like golfballs at a driving range. i am a target. for what i do not know. i am a target for my self to strike out against in defiance of me. i am a delusion of my ego. i am a wilting pedal of flower in a sickly dry vase. i am melodrama incarnate. oh poor me. this tea in this cup that you can not see i will describe for you: it is supposed to ease tension (according to the box) and just that thought makes me tense...the tea is of a rusty brown nature...the cup is of a wooden brown nature...i am of a brown nature. maybe my eyes will cross soon. i do not know for sure...