My head spun last nite. Like a pinwheel in a dark, dark forest. A thousand miles from anywhere. What I really need now is some guidance. But I am surrounded only by ignorance, so I fear to follow advice.
I said if I could crawl into a hole away from the world, maybe I could calm down. But really, that wouldn't erase the thoughts. The thoughts that swell like mounds of insects and fester and dwell between flapping pieces of rancid, decaying tissue. The swelling of these thoughts will not stop.
Eleven years with five girls. One by one they have killed a life growing inside of them. Not something that was placed there against their wills. They spread their cursed legs and CREATED something. Am I the only one who sees this? Created something. To take it away before its first light, first breath, first kiss, first smile.
That's all it seems to be about anymore. A flow of death. A slow and winding river of blood. Flowing smoothly across the black and charred Earth. How long until these nightmares that only I see become your reality?
And now there is ice. Cold plastic chilling hands. A purple glass of numbness. Temporary sanity or blockage of the pain. Life's little turnicates that slow the bleeding. But the truth is that the bleeding never really stops.