my shoulders are tight and the muscles covering the bones of my back are crystallizing while the space in my chest just grows. the feeling of the onset of loss, the feeling of waiting for a cure.
i’m actually, like really actually hoping some parasites are just gnawing at my insides instead of some rocks rattling around where i’d rather they not be, or worse, some undead and beastly things just growing and growing and growing, and then, maybe some sort of poison or other violence will make me well (strange how that works). and i’m actually, like actually really hoping that your lines just weren’t connecting my dots and then maybe we can shake it all out and trace a new, more honest pattern.
