Gestural drawing of George grabbing his ears at two in the morning.
Those ears are a sweet spot. Sweet canal stems from where I grasp and squash down intrusive thoughts. I'm pulling them out, any placebo will do. To put away with all these panic attacks that pull me in different directions. It's used to cope with a single stead stream of saneness that drags long with my clubbed finger pads.Ahh- ahhh.
There goes the panic attack, into the recesses of my subconsciousness as it retreats into another land. Freudian coming to bear witness with my nervousness swallowed down, a disgusting rock of stubbornness crags its way.
I, I hope this ain't going to become a habit.