we grimace at anything unmoving. a dead spider, with its thin stick legs disfigured in the nook of your desk. fat bugs full of spite, sitting in the sill of your window that you hadn't checked in ages --they glare at you with a look of danger in their eyes, about to lunge at you at a threatening speed and stain your skin with the essence of its 'what-was' existence. the iridescent and delicate win... » Continue Reading
i carried the corpse like a dead weight on my back, a layer of skin griped pulled torn shaved skinned off of me by something that wished for my demise without a care or something to gain from my suffering while i begged to return to the beginning or at least catch a glimpse of the end. whichever one it was i'd wanted then, i never knew. Lately, the uncertainty and lack of structure is alright. » Continue Reading