#kaytrayne

The winter refuses to come knowing the fire keeps its promises. So I crawl back to the gray haired woman and beg her to tell me my name isn’t my poltergeist. But the strings are still knotted the same as they were before and the elders whose eyes I stole reminds me not all Angels are devils. So I will rebuild my castle on an island of ruins and I will learn to haunt the cliffs and I will learn to scream my name like a curse into the wind until the silence becomes loud enough to become the flames

Sitting on my hands otherwise I will gnaw on my bones until my teeth carve enough prayers to undo this curse. I tried to prescribe myself enough loudness to hear the storm crawling over the mountains but now the roaches are scattering in my lungs, so I’ll count them like sheep. Lighting artificial fires at my feet in hopes that the embers will pull me into another dimension where I don’t have to sit on my hands

Melting you off my fingertips, cementing you in my bones. My body is only moving because my heart still beats. But I am not home. I’m in the woods with a bat, running from the ghost on the perimeter of my dreams. But the truth has a white knuckle grip on the trees and oh god I cannot scream

If I stay still will the venom pool around me and wash me towards the shore? Or will it turn to magma and slither back into my lungs cauterizing every breath I take? Can I wear my shedded skins like a vow? What if I learn to unhinge my jaw and not devour my own tail? Can I trust my fangs to retract when there is no danger? If I cut off my head will two more grow in its place? If I coil around myself will my scales distort into tree rings?

I’m going to kms (I broke a nail)