Vomit (part 1)

21 2 1
                                    

TW: Puke and mentioned Body Horror and stuff (This is a story I made up. Put in a poetry-ish style. This is heavily based off of my fic on my AO3 account called Thing/Things/Thingself. Suicide)

Bloody
Staining the marble floor
Brown hair collapses in front of my face
This isn't right, it never was
He's in the other room calling her
I'm about to puke

Fear
Fear is a strange feeling
Coping isn't a option
Teeth growing in my intestines
Puke, chunky and pink
Lined with blood and my insides

I couldn't even stop
Barely breathing
Coughing and sputtering
Vision is so smudgy and blurry
I can hardly even function

Why?
I guess I didn't think
Assuming nobody would care
Nobody would even miss me
The whore with a filthy mouth and a violent past
Spiky hair and red eyes
Baggy red hoodie

I look in the mirror
My pitch black skin reflects no light
I vomited on the floor again and again
Again and again

My arms are distorting and limbs are snapped
Torn up face
Disgusting
My legs are giving in
On the brink of collapse
Hips tearing out my skin
Violently ripping and popping out of my body
My bones creaking and shaking

I'm so awful
I deserve to suffer
Foul foul creature
I desperately just wanted to die
The pills that were going to aid me lay clattered on the ground

I collapsed and convulsed a few times
He's telling me to open the door
I don't listen
I feel like I'm floating around seamlessly
I'm exhausted c
Feeling like a burden
Feeling like a demon
Feeling like a monster
Feeling like a disease

I just lay helplessly
He's pounding away, at the door
Knocking endlessly and loudly
He was just yelling at me to open up
I was not smiling anymore, I didn't even know I was in the first place
He was crying, begging me to stay

I wanted to cry
But I didn't
He eventually busted through the door
He was still begging for me to not die
I closed my eyes

I don't remember the next 5 days
I woke up in my bed
I had been conscious, just not truly there

I still think about it sometimes

On cold nights when I can't sleep

That brown hair, it wasn't mine.

Vent art, poetry, and just... ventWhere stories live. Discover now