Why won’t this house stop burning
Why won’t the smoke turn white
write your name over and over and over until it means nothing
The satisfaction feels different to everyone. To me it feels like biting all the skin off the corners of my fingernails until enough collects onto my tongue to chew.
I’ve spent the last 7 days hiding in the shade, having a short lived, digit burning love affairs with 1000 cigarette stubs. All swollen knuckles; finger fucking myself to the thought of destroying evidence. All the evidence. Every piece.