Waking up in the arms of a nurse, this isn’t what I meant when I said I needed nurture. The limbs encaging me carry a certain nostalgia, daymares of empty skin plumped with baggage, passed through filthy needles of which only the delusional, with the right dosage of insanity, can hear the ringing song like tinitus. All you want in life is somebody to share it with, but who would take you now? You’ve sickened those that once loved you, does your mouth taste of Iron? It was I that stole your tongue, cut it clean with my dagger.
I’m going to tie a rope on to the end of my words and, if regretted once spoken, I’ll simply pull those wrongful sentences right back out again. You were never called for help. Cut that clever tongue right out.