BROKEN BAPHOMET: podrido hasta la médula

Feet like concrete roots reaching all the way to Hell. It lights a fire in my heart that I feed with cheap vodka and more little pink pills. Spiders and shadows follow me down the dimly lit hall. I can hear them whispering my name. They’re calling me horrible things. I like this better. I know they aren’t real. But the people outside of my fortress are. They’re plastic and I’m rotten. I’m rotting and they can smell it. The girl in the mirror always stares back at me like she knows something. Something about me I don’t yet know. The shadows laugh louder. So pale. Porcelain skin and angel’s hair. Blood shot eyes with dark shadows cast underneath. She’s bleeding. I’m bleeding. Our nose is leaking red. It tastes metallic on my lips. Doll lips. Small lips. Unkissed, unkempt. What is she hiding from me this time?   The black manic monster. She isn’t inside of my head. She is me. I am her. We breathe together. I breathe alone. Blood trickles down the back of my throat. The spiders follow me back to my room and watch me from the walls and the ceiling and the floor, I can see them from my bed. They cover the door. I can’t leave now. They watch me with eyeless faces. They watch me in my head. The shadows watch me too. I watch them watch me from my bed. One day they’ll drag me off to join them. One day I’ll count too many sheep and I won’t wake from this sleep. One day lightning will run from the ground through my feet and fry my brain. My eyes grow heavy. My breathing grows slow. The shadows wrap themselves around me. I’m never alone.