zombiecatsquad

Fire consumes me. I have dreams of my bones breaking. I can taste other people's guts in my mouth and feel the grainy texture of them as I bite down. I am lost in a sea of pain and screaming. I can see all of the bad and none of the good. A sentient mind misses me in the darkness. I am falling down a pit that does not end. The rushing wind freezes my skin until it shreds off like brittle plastic. As the air turns me my face connects with the rock wall of the hole which I am falling down. My jaw rips off of my face. I can taste the copper of the hot blood which explodes all over my head. I wish I couldn't feel the pain in my sleep. It is as if my mind betrays me and revels in the pain that will destroy my heart. I have dreamed the future. I dreamed about all of this pain and I know it is coming. He who watches. They always want to take my blood. Losing track of thoughts and memories is a constant source of misery. Urges make up all of me. Fear rules everything I do. I can watch the end already if I choose. Nothing stains like blood. The blood is alive when it hits the fabric. Stains have no desire to leave what they already possess. If I have never found the way then what does it even mean for me to be lost? All is doubt. The days pass by so fast now. Death always follows me. I feel that death has a desire to see to my end personally. Why is depth such a malevolent force? My heart tells my mind what to forget. Nothing separates me from the rest. When do I awaken. I dreamed of telling a secret and never hearing it again. I found a heartbeat and felt the greatest sadness ever imagined when it was lost. I hear people in my house at night. They all think that I don't know they are listening to me and watching me all of the time. I am never truly alone. I have nothing that makes up a personality. Someone once told me that everything is borrowed. I didn't listen to them then, but I should have. We are watching again when that was never supposed to happen in the first place. The mistakes are always brought to light after the tragedy. Our people are naught but torn fabric. Is my heart still listening to me, or does it control me completely now? Will I ever find the answer in a place so deep and remote? Time does not matter where I have found myself. Swirling colors change what is in my heart. I have forgotten so many good memories. The bad memories and the bad times never go away. In a way, no one ever asked them to. I can't keep forcing my heart to listen. The tide rises.