I suppose that the buzzing in my head was just looking for a place to escape. It reminds me of a bird, caught between two glass doors, destroying itself in a terrified
bid for freedom. It found it, last night, somewhere between the
sober, frank discussions and the floods of
self-doubt and
fear.
At first I thought it had gotten into
the walls, and I listened for it, a glass pressed up against my ear. It wasn't there, though -- but the more I listened, the more I knew it was nearby, somewhere close.
I think
it's in my clothes, now. I can feel it on me if I stay very still, something like
a skin.
...
And the rock cried out, no hiding place.