the taste of death
within there is a hunger that can’t be fed with flesh
take a stand
just look at what i’ve suffered
in the name of getting you to see how good i am.
lower level
never “hello,” or “mind if i come in?”
you barge in confidently
imitation is iteration
a mind imitates itself
sometimes badly; sometimes well
strand
he wraps cold coils around your shoulders, believing they’ll hold you safely in place