(im endeavouring to make fewer typographical errors . . . . somehow i doubt it will work)

there is this pressure
around my head
my thoughts bear down on me
into the edges of my skull
and drive me to exhaustion with thought
as pain crumbles my limbs so slowly
makes hte peices hard as lead
heavy
ragged
the edges of my filled
with something i 
cannot define
the bile and refuse
of a tired mind
left to its own devices
and concerns
far too long
the fear and tension and twinge of panic
all excrete a hormone
that builds up on my skin
weighing me down
bringing me down
below sealevel
and my skin wants to sleep 
my head to rest
my body to bury itself