rip to shreds the pieces of the earth with our own spiteful hands, instead of bathing in its serenity? damned the moment we breathe air into our unsoiled lungs for the first time, feeling the tickle of gloves dancing over the attenuated skin barely covering your spine. the cacophony of a melancholic infants scream, born into a world of indefinite chaos every tormenting breath twisting your chest into a defiant agony, not releasing when you tell it to, conflicting your own ability to be alive because it seems not living may be the easier option, wondering what you may have done in a past life to deserve the punishment of consciousness, the strangulation of your vocal chords wrapping around the inside of your throat, your own words getting tangled in the morbidity of life itself how could something you have to go through carry so much abhorrence against you, cause the intensity of your fears to escalate so strongly simply by the process of your own thoughts? so gruesome the way existence beats you, using everything around you from people to emotions to annihilate the love you could've harbored in your veins.
