Tuesday, November 22, 2016

An Itch

It’s been coming and going lately, that carnivorous instinct, like a severe itch that just can’t be scratched. Itching for bodies, for warm sweaty runs and salty blood, through the evergreen nightshade. 


It's an itch. When every single impulse of stress and hatred crashes like giant waves on the inside of one’s skull, fracturing and ripping apart whatever limits may still be there.   

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