Everything feels bad to the touch. The air is filled with pollen, ash, and droplets that sink into every surface — solids are wet, fabric is thin and oily. Wood is dry and leaves ash on the fingertips. Hard plastics accumulate semi-permanent streaks of dirt. Soft plastics attract white flecks of skin.
Lotions and balms do not sink into the skin; the lingering greasy layer can only be removed by transmitting the emollient to another object, surface, or being. All plant leaves are filthy and weak: the hibiscus tree flutters their pale edges and lacy dirt patterns as the succulent tinges itself red to signal impending death. Fragrance hits the empty stomach like a bucket of chum.
Food is chewy, silken, and full of stems. Skin is tender and easily abraded. Pets are soft but leave the hands and clothing covered in Morgellons fibers and the smell of damp.
All body parts outside of their normal context and function are nauseating. I move the unctuous air deep into my lungs, voluntarily.
BY The Vibe Killer 