*possible trigger warning*
~~~~~~
the next day passed quickly.
i went to the grocery store,
got high,
ate some ice cream,
watched netflix,
watered the flowers,
showered,
and now i'm here, a bottle of pills in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the next.
"you're such a pussy." i whisper to myself, knowing i can be as loud as i want, as aunt peggy left to visit a sick friend.
as a woman of few words, the only thing i wrote down on a scrap paper was
"there is hurt everywhere."
deciding this was the very last time i'd be able to hurt, i did what i did best...
hurt.
digging the blade deep within my hip, the hurt was exhilarating.
line after line.
hope lost all at once, i went to swallow some pills, but everything got woozy, i was dizzy beyond comparison and my body aches.
the last thing i hear before i hit the floor is running and,
"you hoped till you hurt."
YOU ARE READING
Picasso // h.s.
ספרות חובבים"you know what i do, it's an art form, i'm like the Picasso of killing," the man with green eyes said spinning the knife in his hand. "funny, because i'd say you're closer to Van gogh, considering he was insane as well."
