the art of biting down when you so badly want to scream and pull out the python in your chest, is subtle and slowly learned. you must contend for scarlet chins and swollen, torn lips. for reptiles who are perpetually curled around your ribs and hiss at your weakly pumping heart. for the parasite clinging to your wrinkled brain, sucking your will, growing bigger, fatter, more vicious, more sharper and in the end, consumes you whole
why?
why must you sacrifice yourself for creatures that call themselves humans, but who's nails dip and rip into your skeletal back and revel in your agonized cries. why must you contend for shredded lips, ribs and mind; for people (creatures) that gaze with hollow sunken eyes at your writhing body and walk past in deafening silence as the soul is ripped out of you
it's fine. i'm okay. atleast, i think i will be. it hurts a bit, but i can handle it. a little pain is good. remember when you told me to cherish pain? no? strange, because i do. you wore a floral housecoat and a bun that pulled at the follicles straining at your forehead. i remember the light fell with soft grace onto your silver grey hair and that was beautiful...for a second. before you opened your mouth and spat out the python and stuffed it down my throat with a gentle smile. mother, please don't hurt me. i'm your only son. pythons don't belong to my ribs. please. please.
