This is not going to be pretty. We all know it as the stench of decaying flesh. I can hear them whispering As if my ears have been plug fucked - A ravenous static snarling in the air; Tendons coiled and leaking blood. Like gunshots or dark caves, Tension conjures sweat. Salt for those willing to burn. His partner in crime, Fear, Pacing in the wings, deliberating. Every shaken pill-bottle becomes suicide. Every double-click a hole in your brain. Silence is the headmaster. A fog so dense the air weeps. Brittle winter stumbles in quiet. The cat crosses the room Tail twitching. Tears trickle wordlessly, Pooling onto pillows. Darkness settles. (written 18*november*2001)
Reason for writing:
dedicated to abuse survivors everywhere.
Birth sign: Taurus
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