jeribelle

Perhaps the water will stay dark. Perhaps the castle lights will burn well into the afternoon. Perhaps this suitcase will fill slowly with body parts until it becomes human, becomes whole.

The dark, tired tumor dancing circles like the rings of Saturn around my screaming brain. Laced with the reminants of pills, stress and alcohol. Laced with frying oil and saccarine.

The sun sets and reminders are in place...bed time at X, wake at Y. Hit the snooze until you manage to hit your own head, crushing it to the unconscious oblivion you've longed for all along.