I: Scrawl

Found scrawlings from the inside of my grey and dying mind.

SWALLOW PILLS AS IF THEY’RE PAPER. QUIETLY.
AND DON’T CHOKE IF THEY SLITHER.
PURPLE HANDS CLUTCHING PALE FLAGSTONES. TO BLEED AGAIN.
THE ROTTING GREEN SOUP BENEATH TEETH TURNS RED.
TEETH FALL AND SCATTER LIKE MICE IN THE DARK.
AND THEN THE SPLASH IS WARM AGAINST COLD FINGERS.
A NEW DEAD HOPE WITH SIGH.
ANOTHER SIGH.
A PAINED SIGH.
EVOLVING TO LAUGHTER. HA OVER EXPOSED GUM AS IT BLEEDS AND BLEEDS DOWN.
PALE FLAGSTONES TURN YELLOW.
OCHRE FIELDS TO RUN THROUGH WITH BARE KNEES, TO FALL IN AS THE POISON GRIPS YOU.
FALL.
LAND.
HURT.
LUNGS BURST FROM THE CLAW OF THE BEAST.
POISONED CLAWS ALL IN YOU.
YOU.
IT ALREADY HAS YOU YOU ARE NOTHING YOU ARE NOTHING YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME YOU TOOK THE POISON YOU TOOK IT YOURSELF.
SWALLOW SINK DOWN YOU CANNOT WALK IN YOUR GOLDEN FIELDS.
PALE FLAGSTONES.
OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER FOREVER AND EVER.
CAN YOU FEEL PAPER IN YOUR VEINS?
PICK UP YOUR TEETH.
YOU MIGHT NEED THEM.
AND KISS YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU LIE SO YOU DON’T HATE YOURSELF.
KISS YOURSELF WITH YOUR BLEEDING LIPS AND IGNORE THE STINK FROM YOU POISONED AND ROTTING GUMS.
TO BLEED AGAIN.
TO BLEED A THOUSAND TIMES AND YET YOU STILL HAVE BLOOD TO GIVE AND TEETH TO PICK UP AND GATHER.
GATHER, GATHER, GATHER, AND THEN BLEED.

II: Scrawl

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