My brain is dying. It is running out of my ears and my eyes and my fingers and toes. It is leaking out with ever-increasing speed, constantly becoming more and more fluid; it is pouring out of me and it won't come back.
We are too amazing for words, we are too cool for shadows. Fuck this, we don't need faces, what are they but lies we turn to the morning light, begging selfishly for all that there is, on our knees in the cold air, the warm red mud. We supplicate shamelessly for things we should never even hope to hold.
Fight me, fight me, I hate everything you are. I want everything you are. Kick me down into the clay, grind my bones to dirt and ash. You might as well take everything I am-- division is senseless.
Hello.
- I am a tree-rabbit.
- Sometimes I write things. They're rough and they're seldom decent, but they're things-- sort of. Feedback is very welcome.
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