So wrap me in your marrow, and stuff me in your bones.

The serenity of solitude has slowly turned into the sickness of solitude that slides in through my skin. The weight of a hundred seconds turns my head. The strain of a day curls my fingers. Reminders plant themselves along my path like bombshells planting themselves in my brain stem. Washers for sale on the side of the road without their dryers. Eating peanut butter sandwiches. Eraserless pencils. Left shoes without the right.
So I spend my days listening; to music that rips my ears off their hinges.
So I spend my days watching; movies that tear me from inside out.
So I spend my days reading; books that turn my eyeballs to mush.
So I spend my days cleaning; unconsciously searching for the second: the solution.