Feeling it
Take a hold
With my skin
Turning cold.
My skin flaking
Beginning to decay
As my cherished memories
Slowly slip away.
It seems that this thing
You call "being sane"
Has slipped from grasp
As all I want...
is a brain!
(o_o)
o-(o-)
o/o|
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Kitsune. A girl who likes imagination and cookies. Short stories and poems here! :)
Black. White. Red. Colours of a joke he recalled, but now there was no laughter, only his own screams as he ran, ran forever through the Hell he'd fallen into. No way out, no way back.
Skeletal fingers brush my spine, Words tell me those bones are mine, Breath wraps round my shallow heart, Caressing me in stony art.
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