My hands itched. The skin writhed, as a stem popped out of my palm. No pain, just a relentless feeling in my chest, that spread through every inch of my body, as the stem grew. It bloomed; a golden daffodil bloomed, illuminating the emptiness. There's no hiding now.
I’m looking at you, laughing. I want to break you into a thousand pieces. Stop. No. Don’t laugh. Don’t turn your back at me, asshole. I’m trembling, my heart races, and you laugh. Is that irony I see in your eyes? I want to make your pretty face unrecognizable. Don’t look at them. Don’t let … Continue reading Insanity
When it hurts to be you, there are two options: live with the pain or stop being you. What do you do? If a bomb was brewing in your gut for years, tossing you around in unexplainable anger, anxiety and occasional misanthropy, What would you do? When it finally explodes, anger subsides, anxiety turns to … Continue reading What would you do?
It’s been so long since the last time I wrote for you, but whenever I try to remember how desperation feels, I think of you. It feels like eons since I decided to disassociate from your web and even longer since I saw your eyes sparkling right back at me. Let me tell you, … Continue reading My Puppeteer