every now and then, i slip into my head. it's inevitable really. the pulling starts at my toes, my feet, bending my knees up to my chest, sucking in my ribs, clenching my hands and elbows. until eventually, all of me is contained in the ridges and bumps of my mind. it's not as uncomfortable as it sounds, the confinement contains me perfectly, just tight enough to feel like a long awaited embrace from a friend you hardly know anymore. i sit and wait for directions. to solve for x and balance the equation so i can once again stand on the ground. until i trip over the stone in the middle of deserted streets and skin my knees, i won't be able to find clarity. the small tears of blood my knees will shed somehow leave traces of an answer as i clean them off, licking at the trails to heal the fresh wounds. as they scab and itch, i'll pick at them and the leftover designs leave me with variables i would have otherwise not noticed. as they heal, the small scars will give me directions on how to get down from here. after time everything seems clearer. i've stopped putting bandages across the exposed nerves to try and forget the pain they brought, i've stopped shielding them from the cold bitter air. after the days or weeks it takes for the scabs to shed, i've scribbled so many equations on so many slips of paper, the pencil will be nothing but the nub of the eraser. the eraser that can't be used because it only smears the graphite around and gets plastered between the grooves on my fingers. i collect every scrap and compile it into a small envelope realizing it has little to do with anything, that these equations will never solve for x, that there will always be a small piece missing, and as i seal the envelope and slip it into my pocket, my toes touch the grass.