you can’t breathe, i know.
i get it.
i can only speak when you ignore me.
(whether for you or for me) –
you always do.
look, there’s this tape, a fucking cassette, this neurological mess of thick black tape rolled neatly into this godawful crinkling static VHS that i cannot claw out of my fucking skull no matter how hard i try probably not even if i poured acid all over this shitty hunk of meat encased in bone atop my stupid fucking neck no matter how hard i try lord knows i have tried and my flesh crumbles at the memory alone so FUCK YOU.
i still wake up with lungs full of mud.
it’s not a metaphor for what you think it is.
you don’t get it, you don’t care, you’re still ignoring me.
i’m so tired. i’m so tired of watching that fucking tape. yes, i fucking am how would you know otherwise and just because sometimes i play it at will doesn’t mean i like it, it doesn’t mean i like it and you won’t ever understand why i do it so stop trying.
it entered me freely. i don’t know when. but i let it in.
look, sometimes i just want a reason. and you gave me one i can play back over and over and over and it doesn’t stop and it goes over and over and over and
just pick one already and pray.
spacemortuary is an aspiring tattoo artist from the Pacific North West who’s just out here tryin to draw as many flowers and spread as much hope as possible. pancakes and strawberries and twitter @spacemortuary