Gray Wounds
A Phantasmagoria
- Jun 27, 2018
- 575
Too dark and too cold. Every eye's on me. I want to curl up and just scream. Continuous, blood-curling screaming until I lose my voice, until my ears pop. Maybe then I can expel the suffering. Fucking suffering. Always suffering. It never ends. I see the sun today and then the next second it's dark again. Never an afternoon to spend. Always darker than night. The ants are keeping me awake. I wonder if that will be the same when my body's inside the coffin and ants will be crawling around me. Will someone flick them off and say things that are real good to hear when I was still around and alive. The animals are croaking. Danger. A warning. Goddamn. This world's awful. It's too fucking mortal. And morbid.