dark. dark. dark.
darkness has breached inside you through your cracks where the light beams out. burning down the feelings you swallow as your parliament's burning in between the pages of your bell jar. you wished the smoke you blow out would find their way inside you and cause the non-existent smoking alarm to go off and extinguish the same feelings you have swallowed that's burning you from the inside. "to be deceased is to be free of all the agony you're bearing", you said. but then i couldn't help but wonder, what is a soul without agony buried six feet deep inside it?
