the
                                                                ­ whole
               world
                                          shrieked
        ­                and
                                                              roiled
                                                          ­                       and
                     the
                                              pain
                                                       ­                              didn't
          
                                                          lessen.

Concept: I have spent two days laying in bed, in the dark, I awaken today and decide to leave the confines of my room. The sun is shining. Everything is warm.

She was pounding on the place above her breastbone where the heavy thrum thrum thunk of her heartbeat could be heard through a rattling ribcage.
"there's nothing there!" she cried, "just this ticking inside me to remind me that I'm broken"
The darkness could be seen clinging to her like a shadow, and sunlight skittered around her at even the peak of summer. The clocks changed twice that year and yet the thunk of her heart sputtered on; in winter she beat on her chest with tears in her eyes and let the shadow control the whirrs and clicks of her soul.

Concept: me, filled with light. People gravitate around it like moths but instead of death they find comfort. My joy creates joy and it is all beautiful.

I looked inside myself hoping to find in blood what liquid desires ran and created me, and found the tributaries of myself hollow and shrivelled and smelling like rust and iron. The arteries and capillaries which once carried sunlight now only hold the memories of who I used to be before the dark settled in, stank and putrid and petrifying my once course, swift bloostream. My inner rivers used to sing and now I lie halted and lame and the ocean is inside me but the riptides have died and the currents are stone. I am empty I am empty and the sun is eclipsed by my brokeness.

Concept: people come and go, their presence is a fond memory and their absence is not sharp and raw. We all have our paths.