clever-sadist.com

I find myself able to write again and wish I couldn’t..  only the distinct drowning pain in my heart, lungs, and stomach is such a tool for revival.

And so I write on and were it ink my tears would stain its edges and were it paper my hands would crumple it in despair.

Dear God…   Big bucks, big bucks, no whammies, STOP!!

what dies within me, wilting in such a pathetic, wounding way. Like a drinking dagger it folds into the skin and slips beneath what holds me in.