#if u read all this thankuuuu i loove yooouu

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THAT WOUND. THAT VILE WOUND. it throbs in time with your speeding heart, and the ache it carries through your veins is oppressive, its hot, it tangles around your jaw and through your spine and behind your eyes. there are needles, sprouting from the lacerations like the most heinous ivy, and it strangles your lungs, rips tears from your eyes, lures bile to your throat. it hurts. oh god it hurts. you cant think, you cant breathe, you cant swallow, you cant see. you cant see. you cant see. you cannot see but you know when your eyes are closed, because there are colors stained upon the backs of your eyelids. they form images of loved ones, of viscera, of bile and blood and blackened mud. its jarring, they make anxiety spike outwards, frantic ferro fluid, frightened from faces too scared, too pained, too dead, too piercing with eyes staring straight at you, straight at you. actually, you cant tell when your eyes are open.

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