Monday, August 29

My skin is itching, and it's keeping me awake.

I drag sharp nails across my chest, scratch my back until it bleeds, rub some supposed miracle cream all over but nothing seems to help. Is this what it comes down to?

I've been off the painkillers for three days now. First day was effortless.

He is on his way, in a cab as we speak. Father figure Frank is slowly moving through the night.
My sheets are stained with dark red spots. They smell like urine. Ive never longed for anyone, but if I were to start, I'd pick him and I'd pick now.

I feel like somethings alive inside of me, like my skin is trying to tell me something. In the mirror a horrid vision meets my eyes. I've scratched for hours, and now my back has the letter F in blood written over it. He will think I did this on purpose.


amy said...

This is exceptional. Very profound thoughts. I love the way you write, the way you capture images.

You're also purrdy ^.^

sweetness xx
hope to hear from you*!


keep it going

Dorothy Souhuwat said...

i like the dress

Gaby de Modacapital said...

Hi pretty!
I really love your blog and your amazing style!
I follow you :D
... maybe if you want, you could visit my blog too ( I hope you like it) ;)
kisses from México city!

Tabs A. Geek said...

My dear, are those bruises on your arms?