Part XVII- The last sight you'll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes

“Your stitches are all out, but your scars are healing wrong”

I awake to find the funny man with the hat, tapping me on the forehead with a yellow teacup, in a rather impatient manner suggesting he had been doing it for quite some time and received no recognition for his valiant persistence.

“and the helium balloon inside your room has come undone...”
Pipes the hair, in his lovely nurses uniform

“and its pushing up at the ceiling and...”

At this, the hair looked worried, as if he thought this balloon, wherever it was, would break something,or push right on through, or grown thorns and teeth and eat him.
“The flickering lights, it cannot get beyond”
Said the hat man as the he looked at the hair-nurse with what seemed to be 'however do you get here and get by you silly creature?'. In his look I felt every mirror glance I'd ever received from myself, it resonated deep, in a way that made my ear drums itch and the scars on my heart begin to burn again, those that I had long pretended to forget.

Putting the tea cup down, he reaches into the band of his violently violet top hat and pulls out a doofalacky, those things, what are they called? Oh thats right stealthoscope, placing it in my ears quite halfway between gently and zealously.

As if to answer the question I'd asked only with my eyes he exclaimed
“Oh everyone takes turns, now its yours to play the part!”

He placed the cold end of it in my hand and turned to the jury mice,

“and they're sitting all around you holdin' copies of your chart'

I simply had no idea what to do with this thing, I looked at it, looked at them, looked at the hat man. They frowned, and scribbled down notes.

“and the misery inside their eyes is synchronised and reflecting into yours”
How do you know whats in my eyes!!

“Hold on!”

cried the hat man,
“one more time with feeling. try it again! breathings just a rhythm”

I wonder silently to myself if this is good or bad, or of any consequence whatsoever when I am interrupted by the hair, who shouts to me behind his hand, as if he were part of an intrigue in a construction site, next to a highway, where teenage gangsters were driving past playing doof-doof on their hummer trains, while his supervisor shouted in his other ear.

“Say it in your mind until you know that the words are right.“
However, we were not on a construction site by a highway with doof-doof hummer trains roaring past with fat balding men shouting things that don't make sense.
So the hat man heard, and was clearly quite unimpressed.

“This is why we fight!”

“You thought by now you'd be, so much better than you are”
Said the cheshire cat, clutching a copy of my chart in his tail

“You thought by now they'd see that you had come so far”
Do they have my thoughts on those things?

“and the pride inside their eyes would synchronise into
a love you've never known,”

You are not a very good balloon, you talk far too much
so much more than you've been shown

You talk more than this!
hold on, one more time with feeling, try it again!
breathings just a rhythm.
if only it were that simple...
say it in your mind until you know that the words are right.

But it doesn't work like that!

“this, is why we fight”

It doesn't work that way!!!

NO! NOT OVER MY FACE! AIR! I NEED AIR! PLEASE! TAKE THAT...THAT...that..that thing...take, take it off me...I..I need...air....

“this is why we fight”