Sludge and blood. The smell of deep red iron filtering through the rocks and bodies bruised to the touch. Grotesque collections of pills and broken skin; infections and secretions and violent affections - Spit stained fingers and dilated pupils at thoughts thick with resin. Waking up with sickness in your stomach and bite marks on your neck The pull of clutching hands at strands of hair and bitten lips and sweat Pulling deeper, sharp inhale of self-done stitches Ripped open insides and the moment his breath hitches - aches forever. Pulsing, swollen, bleeding on the brain Sweet and sickly, gorgeous and gorged veins Momentary singularity in pain.
I tried to create a parallel in this between illness and ***. I hope it shows!