LETHARGY.

I wonder, I wonder, I wonder—unanswered questions crawling all over my body, skin tingling, mind restless. How much wondering can one person do until it drives them insane?

With this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it’s all I have, because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me ‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth.

how to be a monster: 1. learn the taste of dirt and pain. 2. teach it to others till your knuckles bleed. 3. see if that makes it easier to breathe.

i pour alcohol into the gaping hole inside my chest. it does not heal. not today. maybe tomorrow.

I wonder if you heard me howl, if you heard my heart crash against my teeth, if you feel it when I bleed.

Run. Run until the pain in your legs compensates for the pain in your heart. And then keep running. Run from the shadow that trails you; opaque and fat with memories, it does nothing but slow you down. Run away until it’s as narrow as a bone. Maybe then you will find yourself feeling as light as the wind that goes against you.

call out post for @undoe