lost

is this a form of torture especially designed for me? to torture me with the worst until i give in? but give in to what – an unknown i have no knowledge of?

raven-haired beauty

her raven hair was torn away, splattered red.

life

that is life, isn’t it? you know that you’ll die in the end, but you continue to live. why?

anxiety

it buzzes under my skin. the urge to move around. the urge to write. the urge to just do something. the detachment from reality – dawning a facade of “i don’t care” and “i am putting everything behind me” – was easy during the day. during the night, everything comes rushing back to me at