Crush them with a mortar and push them down my throat. I'll even swallow them whole just to hide them for you, from you, no matter how much it burns, no matter how full I am.
Lunge them at me and aim for my head. I'll be sure to be hit by every single one of them, no matter how many I have myself, no matter how heavy they become.
Bury my bruised body with them, while you whisper your prayers for forgiveness to no one in particular, especially not me, especially not to a god that is no longer listening.
I'll be sure to listen in their stead, and I'll be sure to remember every word you let out, and all the things you hurled at me and made me devour. I'll be sure to make you believe in them too, believe in them enough so you too take a bite.
YOU ARE READING
A few sentiments
PoetryEverything is in shambles, but that's just how it is with nonsense writings. It contains (very) short stories, poetry, and just words in general that are strung together and might or might not hold some meaning. Basically anything my sleep deprived...
