Sometimes I pass by mirrors, but I don't see a reflection, I see a shell. I've changed since that night.
My dreams have become macabre and vivid, the imagery of my fathers rotting corpse, cut into small pieces, sitting atop garbage. It was chilling but I couldn't get it out of my head. It brought emotions to the surface and it felt good. But then I think of you. I've noticed a pattern in my thoughts when I think of you. It starts with anger, how you've betrayed me, but it boils. It boils so fucking much my lid pops off and my body is screaming, how wonderful it would be to rip you from your soft stomach to your defined jaw. I wonder what noises you'll make.
