Hiraeth

my BoDy

"Disfigured"
The word echoes down my hallways, spreading its toxicity towards my living room.
The word takes the form of a figure. A monster.
A creature you'd see in your nightmares.
An aroma follows it, a black mist thicker than crimson red blood.
It creeps into my living room, polluting it with its' intrusive presence.
The black mist's presence causes the walls to ooze with self-hatred.

"Deformed"
The liquid bubbles like hot acid.
It's coming out of the photographs: they all have me in it.
The family photographs are dating back to when I was young.
The hot frothy liquid reminds me of a calligraphy pen.
Everyone's looking so happy, yet the liquid is circling me.
It's trying to paint a beautiful portrait over the mistake that I call -

"Repulsive"
The figure's screeched are emphatic.
Its' arms drag along the walls, its' nails scraping the walls.
Its' screeched and scraping nails join together to create a horrifying melody.
The creature leans towards the doorway of my living room, as if it's deciding whether to stay or go.
My living room's almost full to the brim with self-hating liquid, to the point where no one can breathe.
I hear its' harrowing cries as it crawls up my staircase.

"Revolting"
My home feels unsafe.
I can feel its eyes on me even though its' not here yet.
It feels disoriented; the mirror shifted towards the left.
The words deafen my ears; they feel like they're bleeding.
It begins the second flight of stairs.
It's almost here, this horrifying figure.

"Malformed"
The black mist is putrid.
The hot bike liquid begins to drip on my duvet.
It knows I'm here.
The monster cackles, its' voice is like a demented pig squeal.
There's no point in hiding anymore.
We both know I'll have to come to terms with being -

"Distorted"
I give out a defeated sign; I inhale a final breath as if it's going to be my last.
My hands shaking like a category eight earthquake.
There's no point in running from something I can't escape; I hear my mirror crash to the floor.
I lift the covers from over my head, coming face to face with the monster.
The creature's screeched form into words; its words plague my thoughts.
It's right, my body is a defect: I am all wrong.