Haunted Head

I wake up early at six in the morning.

I take a slice of bread and create a hole in it, likely for preparation of breakfast.

I crack an egg into a frying pan, continuing the breakfast preparation.

I attempt to quiet or calm my thoughts.

I am undressed or unclothed.

My state of undress doesn't matter when the room's shades are drawn, suggesting privacy or seclusion.

My identity and characteristics have been constant from birth and will remain until death.

I'm unsure how to confront or accept my reality.

I struggle to acknowledge or accept the truth about myself.

I live by myself.

A home lacking emotional connection or warmth is not truly a home.

I consider destroying my possessions or belongings.

I'm reverting back to a darker, distressed emotional state symbolized by black and red colors.

I'm deeply entrenched within my troubled thoughts and emotions.

I put on a prayer shawl, referencing a religious garment.

I cover myself with something beyond my rational understanding or control.

My mind cannot grasp or comprehend this spiritual or metaphysical concept.

I mechanically perform actions without genuine emotional engagement.

I take purposeless drives in the early hours of the morning.

I lead hidden or secretive lives during these drives, but these identities fade away by morning.

None of these transient identities persist or survive.

By morning, I am directionless or lacking a clear purpose.

I'm on Lake Street, possibly a location or a metaphorical representation of a journey.

I approach a red light, but there's no one else present.

I feel burdened by the presence of authority or societal norms.

The authority speaks in a language or ideology that has lost its relevance or power.

I'm deeply absorbed within my troubled thoughts and emotions, as if haunted.

I'm finding pleasure or excitement in an excessive or self-destructive manner.

I am in a state of physical distress, likened to embracing a long-lost friend at a toilet.

I'm submitting myself to a position of reverence or submission, unable to speak or hear.

I'm learning the true essence of prayer, likely through hardship or suffering.

I attempted to be clever or evade pain, but it didn't work.

I believed I understood the rules of life, but they constantly change, making adaptation challenging.

Just when one gets accustomed to life's patterns, they shift, leading to repercussions for nonexistent faults.

One ends up being punished or suffering consequences for actions that aren't real transgressions.

I wait for a moment of clarity or understanding to arrive.

Eventually, I hope to comprehend the sense behind the chaos or difficulties of this world.

I anticipate that the inexplicable nature of this troubled world will be explained or resolved.

Despite barely holding on, I remain attached to life, albeit tenuously.

I'm deeply entrenched within my troubled thoughts and emotions, feeling haunted.