Day 229: I Swear To God I’m Going To Cut My Fucking Arms Off If These Worms Don’t Stop Swimming Under My Skin.

What would you sacrifice to experience paradise?

Me?

I gave flesh.

Little bugs that live in the sand and probably on a dog named Scorpion, who habitually licks my face, here in the western region of Ghana, in a remote surf town called Busua, are at this very moment, feasting on me like locusts preceding a prophecy.

They’ve invisibly initiated a coordinated offensive toward my torso.

Last night I lathered myself in hand sanitizer, and hydrogen peroxide.

Like a fucking crazy person.

I smell like vinegar.

The momentary burning on all he little bumps was a brief respite from the most intense call to itch I’ve ever experienced.

WHAT ARE YOU!!

SHOW YOURSELF!

COWARDS!

I’m infected by cowards.

Despite looking like a three year old put small red stickers all over my naked body, my spirits are high.

I danced in low tide ocean as the full moon basked me in beautiful moonlight.

The stars ever watching, danced for me.

Powering me to a degree where my brain broke and out poured questions that heaved my essence to a pillar above the one I’ve been standing on for a great many years.

I grew.

So to speak.

When I love myself unconditionally, I tend to fall in love with others.

An other.

A beautiful other.

But my attention is on the worms, and how their magically making me look like the Crypt keeper.