chapel
in the battered world when all that is left is the whispers of cries and screams, air penetrating the muscles, running out of the lungs as all these bodies slump and somberly fall into place, what will be left, what do i want to leave, the point of my lfie, what i want to leave, is the impression of misery. a grey satan inside me, an all encompassing cleanout, sterile and weightless. and in her twin embryo, she is also the heaviest body, like screaming as your lungs are popping and shrieking under the weight of an unbearable sickening body. breathing down your bare back, breaking your ribs, snapping like wishbones as you're never leaving, the great spear inside you twisting up and out. covered in shit and stinking of hot insides.