Looks like I fell into a big, greasy puddle o' you.
You know, it's not as bad as it looks, I actually kind of like it.
It's sort of warm, and strangely comforting.
It's slippin' and slidin' into all kinds of weirdo crevices, condensing to comfortable jelly.
It's... coating me...
It's covering me...
in a warm film of... you.
Over my hands and feet, relaxing all the muscles.
...kind of... actually... relaxing them to the point that... that I... I can't move.
And this puddle of you... it's getting in my hair, changing it's colour.
Making my clothes look funny... different than how I like them,
but strangely reminiscent of... you.
You're sinking into my skin.
You're slipping into my ears... I can only hear what filters through you...
Over the globes of my eyes... all I can see is you...
all you'll *let* me see is you.
You're making me breathe you in...
and it's... suffocating.
Cooling down too... doesn't feel so warm anymore.
It's actually getting chilly... cold.
Penetrated through my skin... into my bloodstream.
You're making me cold.
This big puddle, it's surrounded me.
I'm coated in a layer of you, and I can't see or hear. I can't taste or smell.
Not anything, except you.
I don't like it.
I don't like being you.
I don't like you being in me, controlling what gets through.
But you've filled every ounce of me, and replaced it with you...
and now there's not enough to fight back...
because when I do, you make it my fault...
because in the beginning, I liked it.
In the beginning,
back when you were you... you were a big puddle of warm you...
but more importantly...
back when I was still me.
Back.