22 February 2016

Unfavorable sensory input

Mental Health
It was one of those mornings you could taste and smell.
At some point overnight, the coming day must have gone prematurely stale. There was a sharp tang of decay, mingled with some looming, cloying sweetness, an aftertaste of dissipating dreams. Something metallic, perhaps a premonition of blood. I had not yet at this point even dared to open my eyes.

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