head–lights, ⠀ BRIGHT, ⠀ BLINDING, ⠀ sweet crimson oozing through fabric, ⠀ thumb pushing further, ⠀ further. ⠀ fingers prickle numb through zip-ties, ⠀ a low static hum. ⠀ saliva tacky on his chin, ⠀ lurching forward—-always towards, ⠀ into the ACHE.
spit, ⠀ thickened with iron, ⠀ splattering against the leather of wolf's boot. ⠀ a promise. ⠀ PERSONAL. ⠀ ghost makes nothing easy. ⠀ bitterness, ⠀ contempt, ⠀ all of these things he can find. ⠀ he can use. ⠀ all there in his eyes, ⠀ in the timbre of a ghost's howl.
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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ׅ ׅ ⠀ ⠀* ⠀⠀⠀ @antibullet ⠀ ᭡⠀⠀.
⠀ ⠀ ﹒ ⠀⠀⠀𓄒 ⠀⠀⠀ˍ⠀⠀⠀@pinfingers.
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memory is a fog. i wade through it, blind to myself. but light refracts through it, casts sun into shadows better left dark. i feel reverie's chill down my neck, plastering the sticky dew of my regret down-spine. i want to be lost to the fog, never to see daylight again.
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IF YOU AIM AN UNLOADED GUN AT A MIRROR AND PULL THE TRIGGER YOU WILL KILL YOUR SOUL AND BECOME WHAT IS KNOWN AS A "PHILOSOPHICAL ZOMBIE"
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"just the tip i swear" i say as i load a gun. "my pull out game is really good" i say as i put the gun in my mouth




















