the roughest of drafts

I have reprogrammed my brain so that when it connects it fails to correlate your existence. You become nothing but a dead neuron. All dried out of blood but feelings flow on. Neurotic loves Chaotic but my hands can't take the tremors. Quicker than a blink, but you're worse than a fever. Delirium led no where but set up an escape. Out, you are a trickling sweat and my mind somehow gets hit. It feels like sex.