The Obscure

Strangeness in the dark.

I am finding myself thinking thoughs unthinkable, if that is in any way possible for anyone to understand, which I highly doubt.
I am unutterably bored. There is nothing I can do about it, however, having lived the life of a total shut-in for as long as I have now.
I feel like I have that emotional concussion swelling inside my skull again, but I cannot figure out any coherent way to let the pressure out. Let me please introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste. Right now I feel like my brain is numb, like my mind has lost all of the potency it once had (which, as you assuredly know, was not much to begin with). It feels like I've suddenly had anchors strapped onto the bottom of my every thought.
They struggle in the briny deep
Those things that are my mind's to keep.
Though they struggle hard, they yet shall drown
With no would-be rescuer to be found.

Bats in the belfry. Belfrey? Who cares. However it is spelt, I don't know what is so wrong with bats being there; but then one must wonder why a bat would be inclined to be there in the first place.
I found my broken heart, and sent it
To the person who might mend it
But when it was returned, by post
I found the mender was a ghost
No mended heart to be found
Without the care of my love around
Dead and gone, or as good as such
I find her absence works as much
As the death of she or I
Still I mourn it, by and by.

Dunno what that means, as I said, my brain is pretty well scrambled today.
I don't really have much that I can say, though my mind is filled to the brim with thoughts, none of them I can articulate. So I will leave now, good-day to you all.