...sour regurgitations of grey gravy and meatless meat options...
My arms have scratches on them, and oval bruises on my legs.
I have to be careful around them. I have to play the game. I have to figure them out before I go insane.
And then...they came. One after another they came.
"I feel...I feel heavy. But hollow inside."
They are the rabid creatures that scrape and carve and excrete all over my deep roots...
Now they want to wrap that same noose around my neck.
s that why we are what we are, now?
An infinite struggle for breath and voice.
In three days, I'll have a thought...