thoughts

Throbbing. Undulating veins of misery attached to a mass of chaos. Order. Punishment reciprocated through seemingly benign impulses. Opal. Eyes of frosting, coagulating into sour chunks. Kill. This "feeling" inside of me.   The only...

A string of connected thoughts, theorizing over which manner it is best to act upon, like whispy strands of stratus clouds gathering up into a plump and tufty cumulus. His words engorge me so. What regression of thought decided that it was time to...

When you had the chance. Instead you allowed for the hatred within me to seep through the tissues of all my vital organs. I can't complain because a limbless cyclops could have prophesized it. I should have killed you when I had the chance;...

I like the way your elbows look in sweaters. If we had tin can telephones we would talk more. You're probably making puppets that murder right now. If I could make puppets I would make a tire swing and an oak tree. They would be in love. I guess I just...

Stop making puppets that have a better range of emotions than I do. Stop sending me fragments of your flesh. Stop cheering on my pseudo accomplishments. Stop fucking looking anywhere but my forehead. Stop with the silent film script. Stop with the...