I Am The Sleep That Never Comes

And for my next trick, I will show thousands of strangers online my descent into madness.

We are s o s m a ll.

when someone doesn’t wanna tell me what i did wrong and suddenly i’m 8 years old wondering what i did to make my mom mad again

if I ever made it to the model catwalk, I would find some way to bring a sharp thing on set, and as I emerge, a thing of starved beauty and pure art, dramatically slice my own torso open, ribs exposed, guts splattering to the stage ground, blood spewing all over the front row guests, and most importantly, bleeding my useless life essence all over the expensive, artistic designer clothing I am made to show. A terrible display of art, to bleed as a pig does when sliced at the neck to please the human, the killer. What are we humans but showpieces of greed? May my blood be the color we lust for in the cold claws of winter.