de·tri·tus: waste or debris of any kind.
even among heaps of decaying words, bits and pieces of life can still be found.
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cover photo is by harmoniesdusoir on tumblr.
its eyes are brighter than the lights in the operating room with features darker than the dread that looms the knife in its hand killing self-love meant to bloom.
doctor doctor, give me another anesthetic no worries, i promise everything's copacetic even if it is slightly pathetic.
as a sticky liquid cascades from my veins it's hard to tell if it's blood or morphine through my pain but that's okay, as long as there isn't another pound to gain.
quick, the scars along my chest are becoming infected come and do what you've always done, dissect cut and tear until there's nothing left.
stitch up my mouth with a synthetic smile feed me with satisfaction every once and a while write it all down for a perfect file.
soon I'll be able to unplug the dripping IV stop paying attention to the colorful TV and finally become the person I used to be.
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