Acid

I have no idea

The insides are rot, full of disease which manifests as the ghost that haunts the inside. The internal landscape. The dance of fairies that sing about death. I have ventured into this place. I have being lead here, but by choice. All that bores into an empty core. A hollow space. A useless wind of defiance farts. All eyes look into the nothing and I hear a voice. It speaks with images. It makes no sense. The paper door, the acid that I took, grips so tight and what it squeezes from my heart I fear to see. Oh, I don't know what I am. A ghost. A mucus slivering to the bottom of a pole. All is slow and I believe I will never leave.
The Acid Incident. Unknown child. I must make order of everything.