Living Carcasses
It’s beautiful to see how I care for others. I hold them in my arms as they quiver and quake, letting sleeping dreams lay to hear their mouths roar as they tiptoe across the room to see if I’m awake. I didn't believe them when they called me sweet or caring as farewells turned into farewell and a few last words on a piercing night. I still don't. It’s terrifying to see how I care for others. Bleeding in sobbing bathrooms and sticky fingertips as you steady yourself against the sink. You squeeze the pus out and you do it with your thighs, your thoughts, your happy lies and practiced visages. They don't need the extra burden; they are already holding up the world for me. The least I can do is not add solar systems and galaxies to it. It's terrifying to see the rot lunging through in scathing tongues, in barbed fingers. You drown in the stink of iron as you put your hands under your head as you try to sleep. Try it once:...