The fall from grace, the shortened high; the precarious space, the impending sigh
Salt and burn
Wednesday, April 20, 2016 || 6:58 PM
I feel like my insides are eroding from the outside in — specks off me chipping off bit by bit until there is nothing left, until I am left hollowed into ashy remains. The familiar burn in my chest leads my destruction; a driving force pulling me down to my grave.
Day by day by day by day. Each moment stops being something fleeting and starts being something so real and present that I am forced to feel every speck of its duress. How is something able to make you feel both hot and cold at the same time?
An important question that I have allowed myself to choose the wrong answer to.