"I couldn’t stop staring at my wounds. I wanted to crank my neck the right way so I could wince at the pain behind it. Scratches, marks, sores and sour, stinging, open, blood-less cuts. It burns like dirt in my eyes. Sand in my eyes. I cough big and loud and all over everything. Just get it all out of me. No, I really want it all in. Its constant and tangible. I touch it all and its real. I don’t want to lose it at all. I cant possible live on without being beaten down."
-blackvomit