Despair

Both static and corrosive. A morbid dark grey shaded blood splat in black and white grain. Quiet suffocation by both the company and the solitude.

I’ve spent the entirety of my life trying to piece together who I believe I am, all while pretending I have it figured out. I haven’t a shred of an idea. 

Word vomit covers the floors and surfaces, splashing across in random directions. I seek pattern in all the madness hoping to find organized chaos. Lingering shadows hover over my shoulder with twisted grins watching my every move.

Perpetual nausea in the pit of my stomach leaves a lasting unease to pair with the chest pressure restricting airflow. Only in deep breaths does it feel as if I breathe nearly enough.

A wanderer which seeks numbness is choking on toxic fumes and dissolving livers to avoid choking on nontoxic fumes but lusting for sleep.