somewhere deep deep inside of a racking body is a dark little corner in which resides all of the twisting ghosts I've ever met in this short life of mine and it's got to the point that every single waking day I ask each and every one of these tedious souls why they've stayed, why they've locked themselves in this wrecked shell of a body, this broken structure that is my ribcage. and never left me alone. never broken out of the brittle complex that supports this snapping creature. madness creeping through muscles, flashing lights dancing before wild eyes, lungs laced with fire and not breath, heart racing - pumping acidic thoughts around an already infected body hopeless, powerless, oblivious (or not) - i wish i was.