Congested Cranium

A c0nstilati0n of jumbled thourghts trapped in my aching cranium.
Bitter is the realisati0n
that m0st of them will n0t even grace the outer w0rld. . .
How they twist and turn in the
grey c0nfinements of my sore skull.
As if to announce their disc0mfort in the sickliest of ways possible.
How they c0llide in a mass of pungent accusations.
I sense their w0rds, their pointer finger.
I put them there,
breathed life to them.
N0w it seems they have c0me to detest their c0ngested abode.
My brimming mind.
Their insane h0me. . .