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There is a part of us. Looming and hovering in the shadows of our hearts. That provides shelter to all our horrors. All the sickness that thrives inside us. All our humanity resides there. photograph'able like ghosts, but reflection-less like vampires. Piles of rot are stinking up our chest. The hollow cavity, makes metal noises. Like the sound of poured gold coins.
Ka-chinking around in your rib cage. And the only way we show this side, to the awareness of other human eyes. Is to regurgitate this rotting pit of acid. Onto their new Express Sweaters.
abbywaslike abbywaslike 18-21, F Nov 7, 2012

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