parker shaw -- district eleven -- cb 2/3

parker shaw

Wildfire. Eating me from the inside out and there is no left to be crushed between rotting teeth. Burning from the inside out, I run my hands along the gaping wounds hidden just beneath the surface. It's all okay- over and over again. His hands make me as ugly as I feel and there is something cathartic in the poetry of it all. 

The world is tinged red. I'm so often seeing it run through the cracks in my fingers. Dribbling out of the skin on my knuckles split wide. Explosive. A name I've made for myself in the harsh words that seep from in between my lips. The violence that will no doubt follow them . There's no reason to fear death when your existence is hell on earth. 

Stop. I could stop it all. Bruises and brawls, agony in the way that bones lay broken after a night of one, two, three too many. I've a bed to sleep in- a house with cracks running through feeble foundation but it is warm enough. I needn't chase conflict with a knife in either palm but there is simple truth to the reason I still do. 

It's fun.