hmmm

sometimes when you're alone and inside your head, you feel like you can't stop talking. and you keep talking, just to get that voice out of your head. the one telling you that you've got something to say but no one to tell. the one that has a voice that isn't your own with an accent that's not yours either and that keeps changing with every sentence.

so you talk.

about jellyfish, the way sweet perfumes make you cough, brown paper bags, strawberry cookies, musicians, motorbikes, the music that's seeping through your walls, make up, plastic cups, the pins and needles creeping from your feet up to your calves, how everything seems more interesting on TV, how everyone should get a soundtrack to match their lives, posters, blue-tack, the smell of books, friends, leather pants and what it would taste like if your whole mouth filled up with blood.

you talk until your mind goes blank, or you fall asleep.

I think that's how you get weird dreams.