20 notes

I close my eyes and this image floats beside me:
The sweaty toothed madman whose stare pounds my brain
and all the while he’s mumbling.
Mumbling truth.
Truth is like, like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold.
You push it, stretch it.
It will never be enough.
You kick at it, beat it.
It will never cover any of us.
From the moment we enter crying
to the moment we leave dying,
It will just cover your face as you wail and cry and scream.